A Long Way From Home
by illogical squeeks
Summary: You ain't lived until you've died and then lived again on the Dutchman by accident... then again, you ain't died until you've lived, and if you're living once you're dead, does that count as dying from the living world? [Life on board the Flying Dutchman]
1. Prologue & Chap 1: Pancreas Deep

**Prologue **

_Dear Grover Hunter, _

Well, I guess I'd better introduce myself... this being my story and all. Oh, and an interesting one it is too. Right now I'm sitting here, looking at the ol' tank across from my desk. Writing my memoirs and all. So much has changed! I'm not even halfway through my life, and already, memoir-writing! Isn't that just great? Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. So. My name is Sadie Ella Ward, though nobody calls me Sadie... Mostly I'm called Bibsy. Why? Really, I don't know. My guess is that I can thank Bethany for that one.

(Bethany is my older sister. Older by two years. I guess her little two-year-old mouth couldn't pronounce Sadie, so she stuck to Bibsy. And ever since, I've been lumbered with the name of a three-year-old. Life just isn't fair, is it? And anyway, who cares about Bethany? This is my story, as in Sadie, as in Bibsy.)

I'm seventeen years old. (Nearly) (Very nearly)

And something I'm well-known for is, well, being a bit of a liar, y'know... Sometimes people call me Fibsy. Yeah I know, like, laaame. But they do anyway. Sometimes. And seriously, I don't lie, like ever. Well, um, I do, but so does everyone. And I, more like... exaggerate things a bit, bend the truth here and there, pick out words carefully, you know? Nothing too serious. And trust me, this story is as true as true can be. Really. And if you don't believe me, then... so's your face.

**1) Pancreas-deep **

So there I was, right? All innocent-like, not at all aware that I was about to be victimized in a terrible series of events that would change my life for ever and ever and ever. Well, perhaps _life_ wouldn't be the right word to describe it...

I was happy, because I'd found a New Place. Right, so you might think (SO VERY NEARLY) seventeen is a bit old to go gallivanting off onto the rocks and cliff-face around the beach on the cove I live on, but really I needed some plain old alone-time because there was this mega-drama going on with, what, my old (ex) best friend Kimmy totally snogging my (ex? I don't know) boyfriend because he was totally drunk and the party was like, oh my god. And it turned out this guy called George was bi and... There's just all this stuff, right?

Hmm. It all seems little now.

Where was I before I rudely interrupted myself? Oh yeah, I'd found this cave in the cliffside. Totally amazing place. I used the torch in my mobile phone to see in, though there was quite a lot of light from the entrance... I'd never seen this place before. And when I got to the back of the cave, I made myself comfy, turned off the torch, and just sat chilling in the half-darkness. A little bit of light was filtering from the front of the cave, and slimy seaweed was glistening on rocks around me, though the one I was half-sat, half-lying on was sea-weed free, I'd checked.

The smell of the sea was intense in there. There was a sort of line on the wall – well, not really a line. The bottom half was this weird dark grey, and had seaweed and barnacles all over it, and the top half was normal rock-coloured. I guess when the tide was high, it came in here; but seeing as there was hours left before the tide came in, I had plenty of time to just relax. It felt like all of my senses were heightened in that cave... The smell was sharp, strong, overpowering, and I could almost see it clouding in the air. And I could hear the roar and tumble of the sea, even though it was far away. I could see the tunnel mouth ahead of me – and, just about, see the thin blue line of the horizon, curving gently, the shape of the globe.

I tried to get myself all peaceful and comfortable, but the rock I was lounging about on was sharp and pointy in all the wrong places (I know, typical. Just typical of the stupid, selfish rock.) and I just couldn't get myself right. I started 'exploring', you know, feeling around on the walls, jumping up to try and touch the roof of the cavern, shouting stuff like, "Halt, fiend!" and stamping my feet to hear the echoes, and general stupid kid-cave-type stuff.

An odd thing about the cave was the lack of vandalism. I mean, I was expecting beer-bottles, cigarette ends, tin foil, half a toy frisbee, that sort of thing. At least a crisp-packet. But no... this place was Untouched by Humanity. Which I thought was sort of cool. Apart from this bottle in the darkness by my feet; but I didn't even bother looking at that. Ha.

It was also dryer in here then it was outside. Seeing as this was good ole England, and it was a beach, it was obvious the weather was going to drizzle in a manner that was simply beyond the Vale of Crappiness, and more in the Lost City of Shitlike. (**NB**: I'm allowed to say that, 'cause I live in England, and am English. So blah.)

So this was where things started going weird. First, there was this sort of magical holy breeze thing, like in movies, and the wind is like rippling all around and lifting up the clothes and hair a bit, and the person experiencing the magical holy breeze generally stands there looking as agog as several gogs, which I think I managed to do quite well. And remember this was in a cave, so, well, that just multiplied the magical mysticalness of it all.

(Cheesy? Well, I didn't ask for it to happen, did I?)

And suddenly there was this weirdest feeling ever, like going up in an elevator really really fast so your stomach goes gloooomph and your brain feels smushed, and the feeling of being watched but not, and a feeling like you're floating slightly, and dizziness like someone just used your head as a basketball, and suchlike. Seriously weird. Also, it was like when you get this really bad headache, and you get up too fast, and suddenly all of these little white sparkly dots appear, usually from the top-left corner first, and sort of spread out over your vision so you can barely see.

And my ears popped.

And then...

----------

It was like being in a car that was racing along at a zillion krillion miles an hour, and then suddenly, WHAM! It just stops, just like that, making you jolt forwards, and nearly get whiplash. And it was like being in someone's mouth, and suddenly being spat out. It was like something mad had been happening, and everything gets incredibly madder for just a second, and then – splat. It's gone. Dead.

All of my senses rushed to me, in a really inane way. I couldn't see, and then suddenly, I could see everything much too clearly. And I was up to, well, about my pancreas in water. Huh? Maybe I'd passed out, or whatever. I don't know, but standing here still looking agog wasn't going to help me out, so I just ran for the entrance of the cave. The tide was coming in! Or maybe it was going out...? No, the walls were still dry, and so was I above the bottom-chest-type-area, and I was also alive.

The water was cold and sticky, and it seemed determined to cling to me in a really uncomfortable way, making my skinny-jeans stick to me, and my bright green converses were like... ruined. But no time for a valley-girl like explosion of mourning for my clothes now, and I crashed out of the cave with a huge spray of water around me, and glanced around.

The water was still knee-height right up to the cliff-face! Damn, I'd better get out of here... I also noticed that it was pretty dark, and I turned towards the sea, and saw that the sun was in the process of setting. Gads, how long had I been in that cave?! My mother dearest was going to go spare! Oh well, I'd think up some explanation on the way home. I waded across the beach, until... Um...

Cliff.

Where were the stairs?

Where in the name of pantyhose were the stairs?

Those lovely concrete stairs with the painted-white iron handlebar, rusty in some places, with that absolutely gorgeous sign about no dog 'fouling' on this beach, and the lovely, attractive, amazingly sexy EXIT? Where?

I'll tell you where...

...Err, not here.

(Okay, so I didn't, in fact, tell you where. Well I didn't know where, okay?)

The tide was coming in. Even though the sea seems to move at a quite a slow pace, it seemed to be racing up the beach now, devouring the sand greedily. No way up, no way out, I was stuck here; trapped. I had no idea what to do. There was nothing _to_ do.

Oh my giddy god's g-string!

* * *

**NB:** I'm touching up on the story, to make it better. Basically, this story takes place about fifteen-fourteen years before the movies happened, about one year before Jack Sparrow came on board the _Dutchman_ and made the deal with Davy Jones to raise the _Pearl _for him. Yes, it _is_ a girl-gets-sucked-back-in-time fiction - I am aware there are rather a lot of those - and it does involve Davy Jones and the crew. But it is not a hideous DavyxOC story, and I tried keeping them all in character; no sudden softness and terrible OOC-ness that makes me want to cringe!

So, disclaimer; I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, in fact, the only thing about this story I do own is probably the rather ultra-crazy and slightly dim-witted Bibsy.


	2. Chap 2: Death's Like That

**2) Death's Like That...**

Alright, don't panic, just, um, just, just...

Brainwave! Like, the most obvious thing ever! Just phone my mummy... duh. I scrambled into my shirt pocket for my mobile (thank god I'd put it there and not in my jeans pocket), and voila. Instant phone, just add water. (Or not. Because that would break it.) I flipped it open, and zipped to quick dial and to the one named ASYLUM. Which was my very amusing name for home.

Dialtone.

Beeeeep.

No signal.

No signal?!

But I always had signal here. I looked at the front. No signal. In fact, worse then no signal – the entire network couldn't be found. Huh, that made no sense whatsoever. Maybe I could send a text?

'hey mum plz help stuk on beach. i fink its da beach, but da stairs r gone?! duno. plz help. k.' Umm... no. What the hell could I text her?

'plz com 2 da beach. need help. stairs gone somhow. duno y. plz help.' She'd think I was winding her up, wouldn't she?

'mum plz com 2 da beach im stuck in quicksand help plz tide rising plzplzplz.'

Yeah, it's a lie, but I've got no qualms against that, and... it'll make her come running, wont it? So I press send, and... Unable to send text, no network in range. Uhh. Oh dear. I looked up and searched every inch of the cliff face... No. No stairs. No stairs anywhere. No paths up, either. Just cliff. I looked out to sea... Hey. There had been a lighthouse before. Why wasn't it there anymore? Or the buoys.

What?

Oh dear mother of jesus christ. This was stupid.

I suppose I could jump on the, 'OK I MUST BE CONCUSSED OR DREAMING SO I'LL JUST WAIT TO WAKE UP K' bandwagon, but somehow I didn't think that could be true. But what could I do? The waves were becoming violent now, the water nearly chest-height (dang... there goes my mp3. Hmm, maybe I should get my priorities straight though.), and the cliff face was hard and unforgiving.

And slightly spiky.

----------

So these must have been the worst couple of hours of my life... ever. Really.

Trying to cling to a cliff-face with waves going all crazy on me, pitch-blackness with the sky bright with stars and a half-full moon above me. (A side note... How could I see so many stars? I never used to be able to see stars. Light pollution 'R' us, that should be the nickname of our city.) The sun had set, the water had risen, and now I didn't have my feet on the ground, I was simply grabbing a hold of the cliff face. One hand in a tuft of grass, the other on the rock.

Splash. Splash. Roar.

Oh god. I was going to die. And I was only (nearly) seventeen too! So young! So tragic!

I tried to keep myself hopeful. Just hold onto the rock until the tide goes gown again, easy peasy. Yup, yes-siree-bob. Easy as pie. Is pie easy? Don't know. Perhaps easy as Paris Hilton would be a better way of putting it, though indeed much less sophisticated. Just hold on. Just hold-

Splash. Splash. Roar.

A big wave, slippery rock, clumps of grass not being able to support my weight and falling out and then, well, whoosh...

Being in the wild sea was like being punched and kicked from all sides. Legs being buffeted around, being jerked this way and that, waves shooting me towards the cliff-face, but then the underflow dragging me slowly out to sea, further and further. The 'away from cliff' force seemed to be winning. There was nothing I could do. The sea seemed so mighty all of a sudden; so scary and strong.

I couldn't control my own limbs – that's how strong the currents were. The direction the water decided to pummel me in was the direction my limbs went – and soon I was being dragged under. Slowly, slowly... But then... My mouth gasped for air, forcing it into lungs that were being compressed by the strength of the sea, and...

Water all around me.

Nothing but blackness. Nothing. Everything was pitch black. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed... They were stinging, so I guessed open. My body was still moving jerkily, still not at all of its own accord. The sea was controlling me now, shaking me from side to side, pulling me down deeper and deeper. Aaargh. My lungs were going to explode. A particularly strong battering from the tides made my mouth open, and made me lose a stream of air, rushing up to the surface as bubbles that I couldn't see because of the blackness, precious life streaming off.

I couldn't think of anything. I didn't think. I was in blind-panic mode then, which is probably why I can't remember much, and everything I can remember was bitty and sort of choppy, like a badly made horror film, flying from one scene to the other in sudden jerks. My mind was absolutely blank.

I felt like I was being squeezed, tighter then anything.

I let the air go, sensing some relief, but no air came back in, just water. Black, salty water.

Can't remember anything from now. My guess is that I went under like a submarine.

Funnily enough, this isn't where the story ends. Actually, it's barely the beginning. But you'll understand it all when we get to the next bit...


	3. Chap 3: Dead or Alive

**3) Dead or Alive**

I coughed, with splintering timber beneath me. I felt awful... I looked down. I was coughing up strings of bitter, salty water, and more was dribbling from my mouth. I wiped my chin and sat up, looking around. It was pretty much pitch-black now. What was I on? I could hear creaking... There was a black shape in the starry sky, some sort of silhouette, which I couldn't make out. It was like the mast of a ship... was I on some sort of raft? It was pitching slightly, but it seemed stuck fast. I looked around. Pale light glinted off of rocks.

I looked out to the horizon. Around, and around... and around... Nothing. I was in the middle of the ocean. Also, this 'raft' seemed a bit big. It was sort of a ship, half submerged under the water, bits broken off... how odd. Very odd indeed.

Also odd was, well, how was I here, exactly? I remember the oddest sensation of water pouring into me, filling me up, rushing into my lungs in a sudden rush, my mouth, nose, eyes filled with that hideous salty taste. That was drowning, right? I mean, if someone had rescued me and brought me here, somehow, I'd still be dead, in essence. And anyway, what sort of person rescues someone, and then abandons them on a raft in the middle of god-knows-where?

I crawled along the ship, wondering how I'd gotten here. I mean... this was weird right? And weirder still... This was a wooden ship. You got it? It wasn't one of those big metal thingers. It was wood. But big. It wasn't a raft, but it was made of wood. Now, in this day and age, wood equals raft, raft equals wood, kapeesh? So I was getting a bit suspicious by now. This wasn't right... This wasn't right at all.

"Am I dead?" I asked aloud.

"P-pretty much, yeah." Came a slightly-stuttering voice from next to me. I turned, and saw a man there. He had messy hair, straggly and hanging down in rats tails from the sea and rainwater, and was wearing raggedy clothes, which were hanging off a skin-and-bones body. I didn't really mean to stare. He seemed very cold, shivering and stuttering, etcetera... Well his clothes couldn't have been all that thick. He had big eyes too, which didn't seem to blink all that much.

"Pretty much dead? What's that supposed to mean?" Now nobody knows what happens after death, it's one of the big questions of life. It is a Mystery, with the capital 'M' there. Nobody can come back and tell you what happens so... Nobody knows. Not until you face it. There's the heaven-hell theory, the reincarnation theory, and the controversial, big-fat-NOTHING-HAPPENS theory. I mean, most of us accept one of those above, right? Or a sort of version of it.

I didn't know you arrived on a ship in the middle of nowhere in the dark and cold.

"When y-you die, you get a chance to b-bargain for your soul." He said, softly. "Die free or live as part of the ship... p-part of the crew. You've heard of it?"

"Well... No." I said. Usually I enjoy blagging knowing more then I actually do, but this time I was a little scared, not really myself, and slightly interested. "You mean... It's like... Reincarnation?"

"Davy Jones' crew." The man said, shaking his head. "Most p-people don't believe in it. But us sailors... It's mad not to."

"Davy J- hey, I've heard of him. Isn't he that sixties singer dude thinger-majinger?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck. Yes, I had heard of this Davy Jones... he was one of those flower-power, namby-pamby, beatles-style singer. As far as I knew.

"...What?" He asked, cocking his head, his frozen, and very much frightened expression gave way to one of confusion for a moment. "Where are y-you from?" He asked.

"...Weymouth." I said.

"Where about is that?" He asked.

"In England."

"...You're speaking English? You have an odd accent... Did you come from... somewhere else before that?" He asked. I frowned.

"Um, no. I was born and raised England, oh yes, that's me." I said. "But my grandad is half-Irish." I added helpfully. In case it made any difference.

"Well... We're all going to have to make our choice s-soon anyway." He said, looking out towards the sea. 'We're all'? I looked around the ship, and realized. There were quite a lot of people on the ship... Men. Most of them were shivering, staring into space, a few were bleeding, their clothes were ripped and ragged.

"Who are all these people?" I asked in a hushed tone that probably carried over a seventeen-mile-radius. So subterfuge and quietness aren't my strong points, who cares?

"People who've died in our shipwreck. Those who've died at sea." He blinked his big eyes at me. "But these people get a second chance. They can live, b-but... they have to join _his_ crew. Sell their souls for one hundred y-years to the d-devil himself..."

So at this point I was thinking, _Okay – lunatic alert!_ But I was taking in some of what he said. So those who died at sea got a second chance at life, by joining the crew of a sixties pop singer, who has been referred to as 'the d-devil himself'?! Alright, so his music was bad, but not _that_ bad... A lot of you are probably wondering why I'm not completely panicking and running around screaming my head off. I am trapped on a massive raft with a lot of lunatics, after all.

But what would be the sense in that? I'm a very down-to-earth person, let's just say that.

"And when is the devil himself coming to get us?" I asked.

"N-now..." He said. He pointed across to the ocean. I followed his finger, and noticed the ocean bubbling and swirling, moving oddly, the waves seeming to go outwards. There was a boom, a roar, and the waves began rolling violently, sending a splash over our raft. The men on the ship started, well, generally crawling away to safety. I turned to the big-eyed man, and found him gone. When I looked downwards, I saw him sitting there, holding onto his toes as if afraid they'd run away.

Oh, god! We were going to get sucked down into a huge whirlpool! Was I dead? Was I about to die? Was I perhaps dreaming? No, I wasn't, was I? Could I be? People said being pinched was a cure for that, right? I pinched my arm. My fingers were so numb with cold that they barely closed, and my arm was so numb with cold it wouldn't have felt it anyway.

Rain was pouring down now, running down me, ruining my straightened-hair as well. My long-shirt was soaked, my jacket was being stretched downwards by the force of the rain. My converses were, yes, ruined, and my skinny-jeans were stuck to my legs in a really uncomfortable and unflattering way. Blonde-brown bits of hair were flapping in the wind, no matter how much I tried to pin it down, and I was pretty certain my mascara was running. Oh god. I was going to die looking like a wreck.

The sea was tossing about even more violently now, and suddenly there was a roar louder then all of the others. First off, a jet of water about the size of a tower block shot from the middle of the bubbles, with a massive boom, crashing down and sending huge laps of water over our little dead-people raft. And out of the gap left in the water came... a ship. It wasn't any old ship though. It was like... the original ghost ship. Water poured from every crack and crevice in the ship. Hideous shapes and murals were carved all over it, screaming faces with cannons in the mouths, all completely covered in green, seaweed-slime. Billowing, olive-coloured sails flapped and millions of droplets of water shot off of them. Spikes covered it, and the mascot-type thing on the front was terrifying; a grim-reaper creature, scythe and all, stretching forwards, eyes glinting.

Gosh, all this describing is making me hungry. Anyway.

Once all of the water had cascaded off, the _really_ scary bit came. Hooks on ropes, grapnels, came flying from the ship, hooking onto our little, wrecked boat. And then across the ropes came... creatures. Like, really terrifying. I was so scared, I just stared for a moment. All sorts... Sort of humanoid, half-sea creatures, looking like monsters. They had cutlasses – cutlasses! right, there goes any thought of me still possibly being in the twenty-first century – and were swinging across the open sea fearlessly and professionally, as if they did it every day.

Below them, the sea bubbled and boiled mercilessly, if anyone was to fall in they would probably be dragged under and never seen again, but these creatures slid forwards on the ropes without any care, as if they did it every day. Men merged with all sorts – sea-weed covered and barnacle encrusted, swinging forwards, all scales and fins and piranha teeth; somehow, none of them had grown to resemble the friendly bottlenose dolphin or the much-loved angelfish.

Their colours weren't tropical, they were all... well... murky greens and browns.

As the first of their heavy, studded boots thudded onto the edge of our ship, and the creatures hooked their claws and hands over the edge of the raft, rusted swords glinting sharply, I had made a dash for it, my wet shoes slippery on the damp wood, I yanked a trap door open and, with my mind still reeling, dropped down into the gloom below.


	4. Chap 4: Jaws

**4) Jaws**

If I'd waited around, I would have seen the handy ladder which I could have used to get down in a much more orderly manner, but as it was, I sailed past it and landed on the hard wooden floor, the shock making the joints in my ankles up to my knees ache, and made me stumble sideways, not so graceful, but what's a girl to do, eh? I staggered into the gloom, my only light was filtering in from various holes in the sodden wood of my raft. I skirted around damp barrels and crates, squelching through sea-weed, trying to find a place to hide.

I was breathing heavily now, from all the running and jumping, I wasn't the most athletic person in the world! I was on the hockey team, and I did do a bit of running around on sports day, but I just wasn't at home with all this running-for-your-life stuff. And not to mention I'd _died_ only a short while ago. That certainly has to count for something.

There were piles of crates and barrels back here, full of stuff from pineapples to gunpowder, the latter I could tell from the smell, and the slatted crates you could see through. I dodged around a large post that kept the deck above us held up, and skittered behind a large pile of barrels, fastened by ropes to the wooden floor. I spotted a small gap in between a couple of piles of crates, and skidded across the floor and crawled into it, feeling the sides squeeze in on my shoulder bones and hips, and I managed to sort of twist sideways and then sit down on my bum.

Now, time to think... Think, damnit, think! I was still in a state of shock, I think. I mean, first I was transported somewhere in a magical screw-up of some sort, then I drowned and died, then I appeared on a ship right out of Disneyland, and then I had sea creatures coming onboard and – well, what had they done, actually? They might have been friendly, after all. But something about those leers and dangerous broad-swords told me otherwise.

Silence. Sweet, blessed silence! Well, not quite silence. I could hear muffled thuds and suchlike above me. Harsh, coarse voices were the loudest, and I could occasionally hear men moaning and, in one case, a short cry of pain or fear. These sounds did not inspire hope and happiness in me. However, it sounded sort of muted, far away from me, as if it were all happening in another world. I bit my lip and looked around. And then got down to the real thinking.

So what should I do now? What was my _real_ goal? Alright, what I wanted was to go home. Go home, and be safe. And have everything back to normal. What did I need to do to achieve this? Well... one, find out what had made me come to this place so I could somehow reverse it. And two, stay alive.

Apparently, I had already failed the latter.

But then again, I was alive, in an odd, coming-back-to-life sort of way. Well, let's just say I had to stay as alive as I was now, which was pretty much the same as the alive I'd been before, but with a death in between the two. Oh, god – none of this was making any sense. Okay. Well calm down. To stay alive, I should stay hidden from those things, right? Right. But once they left, what should I do? Stranded on a broken raft wasn't my idea of fun.

Could I sneak onto their ship? _No._ The idea was ludicrous, and I wasn't even going to attempt it. But what could I do next? Perhaps-?

"_SearchthewholeshipAreyousureWe'remissingsomeLet'sgo..."_

Murmurs above me – the grating tones of the sea-creature things. _Search the whole ship._ I stayed stock still, zapping up a prayer or two to god, in the hope that he was listening. _You know you love me, god. Please, help me. Let me come out of this alive. You know I haven't asked for much in life. Those other prayers I've sent you, about maths tests and getting to the toilet on time, they don't really matter. But this does. Please?_

There was a sudden crash. I jumped, and peered through the gap in front of me. A large, hulking shape stood in the light under the trap door. One had come down below decks! It's head turned slowly, taking in the entire room. It was like a robot; collected, peaceful, in no hurry. As if it knew that there was no need to rush, anything that was in here wasn't going to be getting away from it, no siree bob.

About six-feet-tall, broad-chested and bulky, mad, pale pink and green anemone-dreadlocks fell all around it's head. It's face was human shaped, though it's jaw was much more square, and it was lipless; it's mouth reminded me of a shark. The skin on it's face was tinged grey, and probably made up of scales. It had slitted nostrils instead of a nose, and large, round eyes, with black pupils that filled up the entire eye. It's body was also like a human, wearing an odd metallic sort of armoured clothing, with more anemone growing down one of it's arms, and patterns of scales all over it. The other arm was simply grey sharky-scales, coming down into a sort of claw with what looked like shark-teeth for fingernails. This entire anatomy was screwed up...

It's legs ended in huge, barnacle-covered boots that thudded heavily with each step. One of which it took now. It raised it's face slightly into the air, blinking one eye after the other, and I had the strangest impression that it was scenting the air.

I remember a documentary I'd watched once, ages ago, back when my mother could still actually tell me what was good value television and what wasn't. _Sharks are one of this worlds most deadly hunters. They can smell blood in the water from over a mile away, and use this to target their enemies. The great white shark's hunting pattern is similar to that of a big cats – once it's victim is selected, it will simply follow that one target – _shut up, shut up, shut up – _ignoring all other possible kills in order to hunt out it's selected mark._

Stupid flash back! I was really scared then. As the thing started stalking in between crates, it's large eyes darting all over the hold, the jaws-theme started playing in my head. Okay, it wasn't very logical, but it did seem to fit the situation. I breathed shallowly, praying to god that I wasn't going to sneeze. Oh great, now I had to think that thought and jinx myself! I was definitely going to sneeze now...

_Dumm dum._ It finished one row of crates, and turned to another, which was further away from me.

_Dumm dum._ It paused, cocking it's head slighty.

_Dumdum dumdum. _Suddenly it whipped around, looking towards me.

_DUMDUM DUMDUM DUMDUM..._ It was coming towards me.

It was coming towards me. Oh my god. Could it see me? Smell me? Well I guess I did stink of seawater. Aaargh. What shall I do? WhatshallIdo? It was still coming towards me. It was stepping carefully around various bits and pieces on the floor, and coming towards me in an unrushed manner. I shrank backwards through my little gap in the crates. It was so close now. Next to the pile of barrels I'd dashed around not so long ago. Now it was-

The crates I was backing through suddenly ended, and I popped out of the back of the little alley. What? Okay, so I wasn't trapped. Well, as un-trapped as I could be when I was stuck below decks with a shark-man who could sniff me out from the other side of the room. I was still on my butt, but I edged away, crawling on my hands and knees. I turned back to the gap in the crates, just to check on the situation, and-

Through the narrow opening between the piles of crates, I could see it standing there. It's large, reptilian eyes were on me, unblinking, just watching me. I wanted to scream, but I was frozen to the spot. Maybe if I didn't move, it wouldn't spot me. It was really quite dark in here, after all. I wanted to scream and scream and scream, except I hadn't ever really been a screamer. Nothing was worse then the shock of turning around, and finding something you'd been running from simply standing there, watching you. Of course it could see me, I was sitting in the open!

I made a break for it, staggering to me feet and skittering away across the wet boards. The gap between the crates was far too small for this hulking creature to fit through. It would have to go around. And that bought me time.

About three and a half seconds of it.

(**NB:** if anyone gets to reading it this far... please tell me how I have done. this is my debut, so to speak. xD)


	5. Chap 5: My New Boss is a Squid

**5) My New Boss is a Squid**

In a panicked rush, I dodged around crates and boxes, my heart hammering madly, the shock of seeing the nightmarish – well – _thing_ just standing there, watching me, making me want to throw up with fear. My wet converses slapped against the wood below me, making it slippery, but still I ran. I was panting now, and to my ears I was making a ton of noise – my own blood pounding through me seemed to be too loud.

As I came up against a door, I didn't even think about it. I could hear footsteps behind me, no rush, no hurry, but heavy and purposeful. I scrambled with the door handle, praying it wasn't locked, and then burst into a small kitchen. I wasn't sure what to do. There was a big hole in one of the walls and part of the floor, allowing sea water to come in. I considered diving in to the water and swimming to safety – for about one point seven seconds. There was no was I was diving into strong, swirling, black waters again in a hurry.

I slammed the door shut, and then looked around for something to push in front of it. The counters were all stuck fast, apart from this old-fashioned, metal cooker-thing. I pulled at it, and pulled some more, and I braced my feet against the counters and pulled some more, and eventually I yanked it hard enough to make it fall over with a loud clang. _Merde! _(**NB**: a very bad french word.) What was I meant to do now?!

I yanked open a cupboard, and then using my hands like shovels, I scooped out all of the food in there – various bottles, pots, wooden boxes – and scattered them over the floor, then crawled in and pulled the door as shut as possible. It was feeble, and the sort of place a three-year-old would pick to hide, but I had nowhere else to go, there were no other doors out of here. Or if there was, it was now submerged. It was also the sort of size for a three-year-old, but I scrunched up and rested my chin on my knee and my heels dug into the small of my back in a really uncomfortable way.

The door opened, hitting the fallen stove with a small clank. I saw huge, barnacle-covered boots walking into the room. I held my breath, realizing how ridiculous my hiding place was. But maybe it'd go away. Maybe it'd think I dived into the black water and swam away to safety. I concentrated on the sour taste of salt in my mouth. It was still there, after all this time. It was disgusting...

The cupboard door swung open. I bit my lip as the shark-anemone-man squatted down, and we were eye to eye – mine to it's huge, scary, shark eyes. Buggering bum buggers! This was one scary sea monster.

"Hey there, girlie." It smirked, pulling me out easily by my arm.

"Hello." I managed to squeak.

----------

I was practically carried back to the top deck – it lifting me up by one arm. I wondered how it was going to carry me up the trap-door, when it simply flexed his knees slightly, and then did a massive jump straight upwards, propelling both of us up, me still being dragged by my arm. I was too dumb-founded to speak, or do anything, and it's grip was far too strong anyway. As I was pulled across the deck, I remembered what the man had said, about us being allowed to serve in a crew instead of dying. Sort of like serving time in return for your life.

Once it was out on deck, I noticed that most of the other men were gone, and that monster people crewmembers were grabbing them, and then swinging back to the terrible ghost-ship, transporting them from the raft to the towering monstrosity in front of us. I glanced around. Lots of monster people. I got the strongest desire to just find somewhere safe and impregnable and go to sleep.

The shark-man-monster who had found me leapt up onto the sort of banister-thing that surrounded the edge of the ship to stop people falling into the water below, making me swing dangerously for a moment above the churning black waves below us, and I felt incredibly dizzy as I looked down at the water below us. With one hand it kept it's grip on my arm, just below the elbow, where I was pretty sure there would be some nasty bruises pretty soon. With the other hand, it grabbed a hold of a rope, one end of which was fastened to the scary ship in front of us, the other was attached to a grapnel that was next to his left boot.

"I suggest you hold tight." It said, not in a friendly way though, more of a scary way. I suspect that was how they said everything though.

"With what?" I peeped. It didn't reply, just kicked the grapnel, which released the taut rope, and sent us both swinging back towards the green, gigantic, monster-infested ship just ahead of us. The wind whooshed by, sending my hair, now knotted with salt, flying backwards, and my mouth was open in an 'O' of surprise as the air and wind and the agitated ocean before us got the adrenaline pumping.

Then, we were on the terrible, scary ship. He let go of the rope, and we landed with a thump. I looked around the deck. Everything appeared to be slimy, and covered in either seaweed, barnacles, or both. That couldn't be very hygienic, could it? I noticed all of the men from the raft were in a line, and that was where I was being taken by Mr Shark. It dangled me up by one arm for a moment, it's black eyes boring into mine. It seemed a cross between amused and slightly puzzled. I did stand out a bit, I suppose, in my bright clothing and also being the only female and only younger person there. But I wasn't _really_ younger, being (nearly) seventeen.

Then it dropped me, and I nearly fell over, but regained my balanced and quickly jumped to attention, looking as nonchalant and 'I-didn't-just-nearly-fall-over' as possible. I think I heard a couple of sniggers. My heart, if possible, beat harder. Now, not only was I scared out of my mind, I was also unbearably embarrassed. Gah. You just can't win, can you?

I looked down along the line I was standing in, they were all men, and much taller then me, and seeing as they had died at sea probably sailors. They were all staring blankly into space, shivering, some even weeping. I guess this was rather traumatizing, but I just took deep breaths and glanced around the ship furtively. I was probably less scared then all of them because I hadn't heard the rumours about the notorious Davy Jones and his crew; I was blissfully unaware of the doodoo I was about to plunge myself into.

Soon enough, all of the crewmembers had swung back onto our slime covered ship, and the raft was left empty. I looked back at it, seeing the name on the hull of the ship, which was poking up out of the water slightly – _Madam Mims_. I wondered what this ship I was on was called. _The Terrifying Trout_ or _the Winds of Death_ or maybe just _Deathship_. Or maybe not, they all sounded a bit erlack to me.

Everyone seemed to suddenly fall into a sort of hush. I wasn't too sure what was happening, when suddenly I heard it. _Thud._ A footstep. Heavy. Heavier then that of the rest of the crew. _Thud._ The steps were oddly irregular. _Thud._ Whoever – or whatever – was causing these footsteps was coming up the steps. _Thud._ The rest of the crew stopped their chattering, and seemed to fall into an almost reverent silence. I guess this was the captain coming now. _Thud._

Captain Davy Jones. _Thud. _He stepped into view with a very final sounding...

_Thud._

**(NB:** Thank you to Rokhal, my one and only reviewer. xD I am not really too good at selling these fics, am I? Hmmph. Oh well... You know what, I already have up to chapter 10 written out and a plot planned in my head. Perhaps I am rushing this story too much. Hmm. Well, whateverkins, I'm happy I posted it because I have never posted fan fiction before, and it is fun to write. So peace out, etcetera.)

**(NB2:** Heh, thanks also to Dragon of Twilight. Yay, two reviews... As for your comment... Well we shall see what happens.)


	6. Chap 6: Meet the Family

**6) One Big, Happy Family**

The men standing next to me seemed to flinch. I couldn't move; I know it was damningly rude, but all I could do was stare. Stare at him. I mean... 'it'. Standing there, toweringly tall, with a captains hat with a split at the top, edged with gold, matching his buccaneer jacket that came down almost to the floor, the ends tattered and ripped, the golden trimming was missing in several places. There was also trimming around button holes, the lapels, and the one push-back sleeve I could see. He only had one arm in a sleeve of the big, faded blue jacket – the other arm ended in a giant crab claw, so I could see reasons why he hadn't managed to push it through the jacket.

Underneath the large jacket, there was a – sort of waistcoat, except it wasn't cleanly cut and made of silk, it was held in place with a very thick, large-buckled belt. The trousers were extremely tattered, one coming down into a heavy-duty, and again, barnacle-encrusted boot, and the other sort of tearing away into a large crab-foot, resembling a peg-leg, and the cause of the initial _thud_ding. From the belt hung a large sheath, from which a heavyweight sword handle protruded.

I've gone into all of this clothing description, despite the fact that the clothes were no way what I was interested in. Probably to put off getting to his, erm, more distinguishable features. You certainly couldn't mistake him for anyone else in a line-up, what with his mass of curling tentacles in the place of a beard and squid-like features on his face. The tentacles writhed and moved as if of they had a life of their own, and he – I mean it – had a small siphon on the side of it's face which it probably used to breathe. I could see the edge of a pale red bandana showing underneath the large captains hat.

All in all, I nearly fainted.

He surveyed us, as if he were a man at a vegetable stall, considering which carrot to purchase. Except we weren't carrots, and... um... yes. Anyway. I shrank back, knowing that I looked very different from the others in the line up. The only sources of light were the dim glows of many lamps that were set atop of various spikes, etcetera, all around us. I don't think he saw me, as he walked over to the first man in the line. The man gulped and his eyes were darting all around, as if looking for a way out.

But there is no escape from Squid Man.

He was puffing on a pipe, which made me notice that his non-crab-hand (i.e. his right hand) (which is our left) was a tentacled one too, with a ridiculously long finger on it. He puffed some smoke right into the mans face, which made him cough, and hopefully woke him from his panicked state. Then he spoke in a thick Scottish accent. I can do a good McNoo-Land accent, if I do say so myself.

"Do you fear death?" He asked, softly. The man looked like he was about to wet himself.

"N-n-no." He finally stammered. "I'd rather die then serve w-with y-" Squid Man leaned back from the man, and gave a very slight, almost insignificant nod, but it was signal enough. Before the man could even finish his sentence, he was cut down by a crew member – a very scary-looking crew member, with a hammerhead-shark-head.

I decided that yes, I did fear death.

"And which of you scaggots would rather die then serve aboard _the_ _Dutchman_?" He asked, his eyes travelling across the line. His eyes went past me to the next man, but before I could breathe a sigh of relief, they flickered back to me like an afterthought, and he began walking forwards. Towards me. Oh buggerations... Scary, monstrous, very tall Squid Man was coming towards me! What shall I do?! What could I say? I didn't know anything, all these guys seemed to know what was happening, but I didn't!

Why do bad things always happen to good people?!

"Well, well, well." He said, stopping in front of me, and looking down at me. And this time when I say looking down, I mean literally. I came up to just above his waist. I'm quite short, you see. Well, not short. More... Littler then others. I like to say 'petite'. And he was really quite tall. "And what have we here? Who brought this one on board?" He asked, not bothering to look away from me.

"Sir." Said Mr Shark, the one who had found me, scared me half to death and then dangled me by one arm. The captain's eyes seemed to bore into me – they were a pale sky blue, with large pupils, and they were very, very cold.

"Is this one a male or a female?" He asked, with a small frown.

"I'm female!" I snapped. I mean, what sort of question is that to ask someone? Positively one of the most rude questions ever! He chuckled at my snapping, and I quickly bit down on my bottom lip to try and stop it from blabbing on some more.

"A girlie on board the _Dutchman_, eh?" He asked. "What's your name then, runt?"

"Bibsy." I said. "Sadie-Ella." I added. Oh gawd. "Sadie."

"You seem confused." Squid Man said, in a not-very-friendly tone of voice. There were some laughs amongst the crew.

"Bibsy." I muttered, my cheeks probably glowing to a radioactive level.

"Well, _Bibsy_," He said, the way he said my name was definitely degrading me. I somehow sensed what he was going to say next. "Do _you_ fear death?"

"Yes, actually." I said, trying to make my voice not come out as a squeak. "Quite a lot."

"Well then." His Scottish accent was driving me crazy. Not because I found it annoying, but because it was next to absolutely impossible to hold myself back from starting to talk about kilts, haggis and och aye the noo in a mimicking Scottish accent. But I had a slight feeling that doing so would result in immediate disembowelment. And I did not want that. "Are you willing to sail fearlessly with the crew on the _Flying Dutchman_, with me as your captain, for a total of _one hundred years_, in order to cheat death?"

"Oh, yes." I said.

* * *

(**NB: **Just found out about the handy 'ruler' button... heh... anyway. Thank you Llama Angels too. As for your question... Yes, there will be certain special guest appearances, in a while... I'm glad you think my style of writing is 'unique'... personally I'd call it Random Garbage Spewing. But there's room for all types in this world.)


	7. Chap 7: Flying Dutchmen and Suchlike

**7) Flying Dutchmen and Suchlike **

Five out of the fifteen-or-so men chose to serve on the ship. The rest of them died bravely, but oh-so-stupidly. I reasoned that, once we got to land, I could run away and vanish forever. If only I knew that it wasn't that simple. But whatever... Soon, someday soon, I would make my escape. I just had to bide my time until then. And then... voila. I was already scheming as us, the new members, were shown our duties. At this time, they were all the dud jobs, such as cleaning out the bilges, and... er, cleaning out the bilges.

"Is this what they mean by swabbing the decks?" I asked one of the men who had decided to stay on board. I was quite happy that the big-eyed man was one of those who had stayed on board the ship, because, well, he was the closest thing to a friend I had at the time.

"No. That's swabbing – as in, cleaning – the decks. As in, the _decks_." He said now. He was quite mouthy now that he was immortal.

"Okay. Well. This sucks." I said, wrinkling my nose as I turfed a dead rat out from one of the piles of crud.

"It... cleaning can... what?" Asked the big-eyed man.

"Cleaning sucks!" I rolled my eyes.

"Cleaning sucks... what?" My reply got various looks.

----------

Alright, so I had to learn a bit more about the language. They didn't say stuff like, 'this sucks,' because that was their term for... well, something sucking. Literally. This manner of speaking made no sense whatsoever to me, but I had to humour them, and go along with it, because it was their time frame, not mine.

I thought this was highly unfair.

So I didn't bother, mostly.

----------

I'd been becoming aware of the smell now. The smell on board the _Dutchman_ was an odd combination; damp, salt, and sawdust. It seemed to bring back memories, somehow. I cocked my head, and took a deep breath. Mmm. It sounds mank, but the smell actually wasn't too bad. Let's just say it was a very... unique smell. This was the first time I noticed it.

----------

You might be thinking – why would Davy Jones let a namby-pamby, never-seen-a-hard-days-work-in-their-life girlie (they all seemed to call me girlie) into his crew of fearsome fighting monsters? Well, I had to work a bit on that. In essence, lie a little. Not much though, just, y'know, bend the truth. To give off the impression that I sailed quite a lot, and had lived quite a lot of my young life on a boat. And that I was in fact quite handy with a sword.

Well, I did go to this holiday camp once, where we did canoeing. I know that this is by no means the same as working the sails on a big old brig such as the lovely _Flying Dutchman_. On this very same camp, we did fencing. Which isn't exactly sword-fighting, but all aboard the _Dutchman_ are immortal, so even if I get run through with a sword, I can just improvise a little, you know. Also, I tried my hand at orienteering. I did not find the treasure trove of sweeties promised to me. I ended up in a field full of cows, with the rest of my team trying to work out which way up the map was _actually_ meant to be.

However, when asked if I had any experience at all in navigating, I just shrugged and sort of smiled charismatically, in a way that suggested that I was being modest, but in fact I did have plenty of skill at just that. You have to cobble together a way of living, people! So anyway, they did look at my clothes oddly – my trousers were probably the reason they asked if I was male or female, I now gather. Apparently, the new code of conduct is; 'trousers equals male, skirt/dress equals female'. Speaking of fashion, the stuff I was wearing, though on-the-minute fashionable in my times (well of course), in this odd pirate-land, they were wrong, and very, very odd.

"Oh? A navigator? We don't get many of those." The current first-mate, Wyvern, said, seeming interested, for once. He was heavily built, with a distinctly humanoid face, though it looked like a skeleton; though it was actually made of some sort of coral. From two eye-sockets, two greeny-brown eyes (or is that browny-green?) stare, with that unearthly, sharp, perma-glare that most of the crew seemed to have perfected.

"Hmm, well I'm, you know, nothing special." I said, digging my toes into one of the many random piles of seaweed that scattered the entire ship. I don't know why, but I don't feel bad when I lie; the lies just run off my tongue. In fact, I feel sort of... exhilarated, like I'm a conman in the middle of a particularly big job, the closer I get to being found out, the more fun it is...

Does that make me a bad person?

Hopefully not...

----------

Alright. This was officially the worst thing ever. I totally had to get out of here, and _soon_. Another one of those 'never-mention-in-movies' things. My hair was a tangled, frizzed-up mess. My clothes were hard with salt, clotted with dirt, and my shoes were practically stuck to my feet, and I'm afraid to say I (and most things on board the _Dutchman_) stank to high heavens. I mean, hygene wasn't something you even had time to think about while working on board a big, scary ghost ship... in fact, most ships. I didn't have any other changes of clothes, I don't think anybody did, including underwear, so I'd been wearing the same for a long time now, and I probably would be wearing them for, well, the next one hundred years to be precise...

I was smeared in dirt and crap from all of the cleaning and swabbing and all the other grunt work us 'newbies' were forced to do around here. I mean, on board a ghost-ship, wouldn't you expect it to be more mystical and wonderful and all that hollywood crap? But no, it's all scrub this, do that, blah, blah blah.

----------

I struggled with the rounded end of the cannon, my fingers slipping hopelessly. My nails, which used to be oh so long and pretty, were now ground down to next to nothing, and had dirt underneath. And, though there was an annoying lack of mirrors on board, I was pretty sure my hair was going back to it's ginger at the roots. Ohhh great.

Everything down here, even below the below-decks, right down in the bottom of the ship, was damp and rotting. The cannon appeared to be stuck fast, embedded in some – yup, you got it – barnacle-encrusted, sea-weedy substance. I pushed my hair out of my eyes, and, grabbing a hold of the cannon, put one foot against the wall, ready to yank, when...

"What?" The voice was weak and sounded as if it had just woken up from a deep sleep. "Stop."

"...Hello?" I asked, glancing around. Being relatively new here, this ship still crept me out. And now voices coming out of nowhere – um, perhaps I was disintegrating into madness? Perhaps that'd already happened. Hmm. But after the initial Mr Shark and Squid Man shock, my old colours were blindingly shining through. Better then being shy, right?

"Hello." I located the sound of the voice. I took my shoe off of the wall and saw what looked like, err, a knee. I prodded it with my foot and it juddered. I followed it until I got to a body, and therefore the head, there, embedded in the side of the ship, with seaweed and crustacean creatures growing over the sides of his face slightly. The eyes opened, and blinked, and turned to me. The, well, thing in the wall shifted slightly, and I noticed there was a sort of hole in the wall – a slot where it belonged.

"...I... didn't see you there." I said, rather faintly. "Are you a flying Dutchman?" Hmm, in any other situation the question would have sounded pretty, well, dim. And random. But I thought I'd stumbled upon, uh, the 'spirit of the ship' so to speak... You know, like he was the Flying Dutchman God or something. I don't know!

"I don't think so," He said with a dull sort of chuckle. He sounded dead.

"What are you, um, doing there?" I asked, looking around the walls. I was beginning to see humanoid shapes all over the place now, faces with closed eyes and drooping mouths, arms writhed and curled around posts, supporting the hull.

"Part of the ship." He said. "Just becoming part of the ship. 's what happens when you... when you join the crew." He squinted at me. "You, my lass, don't seem like the type to become one of Davy's crew."

"Well... you know... for the sake of staying alive and all." I said innocently.

"The fate on this ship can be worse then death though, young madam." He was well-spoken, now he seemed more awake. "And it seems somewhat tragic, a girl of your age dying at sea, and becoming recruited in the most dangerous crew to roam the seas..."

"Pssht, I wouldn't worry about it." I said, settling down next to him. I lowered my voice. "I'm going to escape soon anyway." He gave me a Look.

"Escape?" He asked. His pale eyes stared into mine for a minute. Then he shook his head, slowly, gently dislodging it from it's place. I blinked at him. "Young madam... I wouldn't try it. No..." He blinked. "The fate of everyone who joins Davy's crew is the same."

And he gestured to himself, prising one of his arms away from the wall to do so.

* * *

(**NB:** Heh, Ally, well this may have turned slightly selfinsert. But not, because Bibsy doesn't resemble me... I'd hope. :P Thanks for reviews. There will be no more updates for a couple of weeks because I am going on holiday... huzzah. If you've bothered to read through seven chapters of my nonwhimsical dribble, why not at least rate it, people? Come on, don't crush a girls dreams here. xD Squeeks out.) 


	8. Chap 8: Life on Board the Dutchman

**8) Life onboard the Dutchman **

"_Bibs_! Learn to swab, you scurvy-addled misfit!" Roared Jimmylegs, as he loped past, on his way to adjust the sails. I plunged my mop into the bucket for the billionth time.

"_My_ name's _Jim-my_, nah nah _nahh_." I pouted, speaking in a mocking, high-pitched voice. Palafico, who until recently has been known as the big-eyed man, rolled his eyes and swept his mop in a glistening arc over the deck. He was, as of now, my sort of best-friend type person. Ish.

"Why do we have to swab _anyway_?" I asked. "I've heard 'swab the decks!' in lots of movies, but I thought it was, you know... one of those things that never happens out of Hollywood." Palafico had no idea what I was talking about, but then again, he usually didn't, so he didn't bother addressing what on earth a 'move-ee' or a 'Holly-wude' was.

"Swabbing," he began, "Is an important part of ship keeping. The decks must be 'swabbed', or mopped, at least once a day, to stop the planks that make the ship from shrinking, withering and leaking all over the place."

"Right out of a textbook." I muttered. He, again, had no idea what I was on about, and simply ignored it. He used to get quite confused and/or amused and ask me about what I was talking about often, but now he couldn't really be bothered. I rubbed the water into the wood, sighing and wondering when we'd stop getting all the crap posts.

I was also a little worried. I was no closer to my escape plan.

I didn't even have an escape plan.

----------

Alright. So I'd been holding it in for long enough now. Unless I avoided fibre at all costs and grew to love being constipated, I couldn't avoid a dire toilet situation. I wasn't sure what the procedure was, though. I carefully explored as much of the ship as I dared, though plenty of rooms I was a little afraid to even try entering, and the Great Cabin where captain Davy lived, was totally out of the question.

"Hey, Palafico." I said, whistling between my teeth at him. He turned to me, his brush halfway into the mouth of the cannon we were meant to be scrubbing. "Know where the toilets are in this dig?"

"I suppose by dig you mean ship," He said wearily. I didn't really try to cover up my modern language... In fact, I used more then was really necessary. It was funny. "We don't get 'toilets' on a ship." He said toilets as if it were a real hoity-toity posh word. Apparently the apt word was 'outhouse' back in these days. "It's down in the bilges, or you go into the sea." I could see his eyes on me, waiting for some sort of reaction.

"Oh," I said. I wasn't too sure what I felt about that. "Like... log overboard?"

Then we giggled like schoolchildren.

----------

Never.

_Ever. _

Try to, uh, relieve yourself in the bilges of a ship.

I mean that.

----------

Hmm.

Now I'm sure this is one of those TMI, don't-want-to-know-about-it things. But monthly periods were pretty tough too. I didn't really have anyone to talk to about it, because I expect the rest of the crew would be either have not one clue on the matter, or would be hopelessly embarrassed and use any excuse, such as a bird flying over the prow, to dive out of the situation.

Let's just say I made use of rags.

Lots of them.

Why do they never mention these things in the _movies_?

----------

I'm not going to skirt around the issue of sea-sickness altogether. Now in movies, your damsel in distress type gets swished away on board a ship and no problem, they don't feel ill at all. And I mean, I'm not usually the type to get seasick. I've been on many a ferry and even a cruise - wait, are they the same thing? Oh well - and I've never had to throw up all over some poor innocent old lady. (More like the other way around in one case - sigh.)

But, well, these old-fashioned, big old wooden ships - they _rock_, man. And not as in they are mosh-pit woohoo ohmygod yeah great. As in they toss and turn in the sea like nothing else. They tip and turn and roll and bob and - eek! It's enough to make _anyone_ feel ill. I don't know how these sailor-types stand it, really I don't.

I haven't been sent flying right into Davy's tentacles yet, but I'm just waiting for something crap like that to happen, just to top up on my bad luck that seems to be happening all the time.

----------

"When oh _when_ are we going to stop getting all the crap jobs, and actually become more like part of the crew?" I asked, blowing my fringe up out of my eyes.

"About the time you start sprouting." I turned around, expecting to see one of my five, fellow human people who had joined the crew at the same time as me. Instead, lounging against a banister, was Mr Shark, the one who'd come to find me down in the cabin. Those memories still haunt me to this day. It was pretty scary, even though on board the _Flying Dutchman_ became a place I wanted to be (in order to live) once I'd found out what it was for.

"_Sprouting_, eh, mister sh... don't worry. What's sprouting?" I didn't expect calling him Mr Shark to his face was that much of a good idea.

"Name's Basajaun." He said, cocking his head suddenly in a real predatory way, like a shark suddenly darting towards it's victim, sending his anemone dreadlocks a-twitch. "And _sprouting_ is when... you become more like us. More part of the crew."

"More like... you." I didn't like the way this was going. "And this involves... turning half-seaweed and half-starfish sort of thing, does it?" This idea did not appeal to me. At all. I wanted to retain my good looks – I was only (nearly) seventeen! I was in my prime! I couldn't go magically turning into a piranha now, could I? Basajaun (what sort of name is that anyway? hmmph.) just chuckled in reply. "So you mean, any day now, I'll wake up and... kachoom! I'm a fish?"

"No, it's not like that." Basajaun (I'll always know him as Mr Shark anyway) said. His head was stone still, his sharky eyes black and intense, and thought his body moved with each breath, his head never moved a single centimetre. I felt like a baby gazelle being stared down by a hungry cheetah. "It's a very... gradual process. It'll start any day now."

"Oh... great." I said weakly. He gave me his scary, wolf-smiling-at-his-next-meal smile and then stalked off. I don't expect he's that bad a person, and he did just (sort of) help me out, after all. But there was just something scary about him.

That memory of me turning around and finding him watching me from the darkness...

----------

I guess you've only ever seen the good ship _Dutchman_ in dark and rainy scenes, you know, to add to the effect. Well let me tell you something, this is the Caribbean, people! It's absolutely sweltering. And I burn real easily in this boiling hot weather, the sun pounding down on me every time I do anything, anywhere.

At this rate I wont need to _sprout_, I already look half lobster anyway. Aargh!

----------

_BRAAAAAP! _

"Oh... buggering bumhole!" I quite literally jumped a foot into the air when I heard it, my heart hammering. Then lots of similar noises came, but shorter, and in some sort of musical order... Oh, I get it... someone was playing an instrument. Or something. Or was I just going ever so slightly bonkers? I turned to see Palafico laughing at me, having seen me suddenly jerk upwards.

"What is that racket?" I hissed.

"Racket? I wouldn't let Captain Davy hear you saying that." Commented a passing crew-member, before leaping onto a rope ladder and vanishing off into the riggings.

"That's our Captain... playing on his organ." Palafico said. "Haven't you heard any of the sea stories? The superstitions and the tales of the _Dutchman_?" He asked. I shook my head, beaming at him. "Huh. Davy Jones pours his soul into his organ playing..." He tilted his head, gesturing to listen.

I leaned back against the side of the ship, taking in the sawdust, damp and salty smell of the _Dutchman_. For some reason, whenever I smelt it, I wanted to simply sit there and inhale it forever, like a drug. Hopefully it wasn't addictive.

The music was pretty... haunting, to say the least. It sort of lingered in my chest, every note made the air shake and my heart seemed to thud in time to the song. The entire ship was engulfed in it's mournful tune, layers and layers of music falling in waves. I wondered how he played, with his crab claw and tentacled hand and all... then I had an idea so ludicrous and ridiculous that I doubted that it could be true, but at the same time realized it must be.

He played with his _beard_?

"Sounds like he playing right from the heart," I commented. Palafico chuckled.

"You really have no idea, do you?" he said, leaning towards me.

----------

I noticed his large eyes were no longer dark.

They were pale green inside, pink outside. Anemone-coloured.

The _sprouting_ had started...

* * *

(**NB:** Thanks for comments! I am back from Italy, and I am still pretty crap at the language. But it was buenissimo and also belle over there! Thanks for reviews, it's always nice to here. Here is the update... Tralala...)


	9. Chap 9: Punishment

**9) Punishment **

You know, this is an odd thing about being on the _Dutchman_. I never thought I'd say this. But, well, one of the main emotions you'll come to getting used to onboard is, well, _boredom_. Things all fall into a pattern. Sail, sail, sail. Clean, clean, clean. Swab, swab, swab. You get to know the crew a bit. Occasionally someone gets the crap whipped out of them for, oh I don't know, accidentally elbowing a doorknob out of position. Real stupid stuff. The only form of 'amusement' for the rest of the crew.

Well, not the _only_ form...

You were probably wondering when I was going to mention the dice game, weren't you? Liars Dice.

Generally, each player uses five six-sided dice, and also a cup, to keep what they roll a secret. Each player rolls, keeping the dice under their cups so nobody knows what they actually rolled. Then the first player chooses a face of the dice – a number from two to six, as one is special – and guess how many is the minimum number of dice on the entire table has rolled that number. The players take turns to either raise the number of that number they think there are – the higher the number, the bigger the risk – or choose a different face, however with a higher number then previous bids.

If a player thinks another players bid must be wrong – like the bids go up so high, that someone bids something ridiculous like all of the dice must have rolled a four, or something – he can challenge them, and then they raise the cups to see which of them was right. If, indeed, all of them were four, then the challenger loses. However, if they weren't, then the challenger wins. The games are generally winner take all.

And what do they gamble? Years of service, of course... Usually in fives or tens.

So there's a nice little explanation of the game for you.

As I was saying... Boredom is something that I, and most of the crew, found ourselves unexpectedly feeling quite a lot of the time. I was a little shocked when I first realized I was bored, but I was. Bored with the same old deck-swabbing. Bored with the same old chores and the same old... everything. We never stopped. Never ported, or went to land... and so far, they hadn't even gone into a battle. We did nothing but help sail the ship. And when we weren't needed...

"Gads, what shall we do now?" I asked, sitting cross-legged atop a slatted crate. Nearby, a game of Liars Dice was taking place, between Wyvern (first mate), Clanker (apparently one of the best fighters in the crew) and Tully (a crewmember which most people onboard the _Dutchman_ are pretty sure is going to be becoming part of the ship soon. He's losing his touch...)

"Not sure. I don't really want to play Liars Dice and bet my remaining life on it until I'm a little better at it." Palafico said, wearily fingering his hair, which had recently started hardening and going pink. His arms had also began losing skin, and hard mixtures of human bone and coral was showing through. He was going to change into a full-on reef soon if we weren't careful.

"We don't even need to really sleep any more." Murmured Ives, one of the still mostly-human gang that we had going. There was a familiar blare of the organ.

"I wish he'd shut up with that bloody organ." I muttered.

The music stopped, abruptly.

Everyone fell silent, glancing around. A lot of them hadn't heard what I'd said, so didn't know the reason why the organ had fallen silent, and now...

_Thud._ Silence. _Thud._ Silence. _Thud... _

Davy Jones was on his way.

Ooh. Crikey.

----------

I had to practically crane my neck to look at Davy. He was pretty tall... and I was rather 'petite'. I didn't really like the expression on his face... I doubted I was about to be awarded a medal or anything. I tried a smile at him, but his expression made it die on my lips. Umm. Whoops.

"You know I was only joking, right?" I asked, hopefully.

He didn't say anything.

"Because really, I think you're playing is _lovely_."

Still no comment.

"Really, I do. I mean, I wish I could play like that."

Nothing.

"Because that's real pro."

...I got the idea that there was no point in continuing, because it wasn't working at all. He had that look of evil evilness on his face and I didn't like it too much. Because when he had that look on his face, well, usually we got the...

"Cat-o'-nine-tails... eleven lashes."

Oh. _Merde._

----------

Yee-owch.

That whipping was pretty darn bad. And to add insult to (literal) injury, Davy didn't even stay to watch me being lashed, just stalk-thumped off. Jimmylegs got the job of whipping me... I don't really know why. He, apparently, was 'the punisher', and one of the best in the land at using the cat-o'-nine-tails with deadly results.

Great.

"You know, eleven is an odd, awkward number. Why not round it down to ten?" I squeaked, as I was steered towards an open space near the galley.

"Sorry, Bibs. Orders is orders." Jimmylegs said with a humourless smile and a shrug. _Thanks a lot,_ I thought. Then again, in his position, I'd do the same. The wrath of Davy Jones was not something you wanted to incur upon yourself... no way.

"Be gentle with me, Jimmy." I said, jokingly, but I did mean it. At least I earned a few laughs... Most of the crew looked like they couldn't believe the stuff I'd said to Davy moments before. I couldn't either. I was so stupid. I was trying with all the bravado stuff, but I was shaking. I saw him pull out the dreaded, nine-tailed whip, twirling it expertly in his hands. Then I was turned away, made to look the other way, so he could whip my back.

"Wait, you can't rip her shirt open! She's a girl." Someone noted.

"So what? Doesn't mean she shouldn't get fair treatment." Someone else replied.

"But... she's a girl." Oh gawd, oh gawd, what if they did tear my top apart so the whips would have more effect? Would they have to tear my bra apart too? That would be pretty darn embarassing. Shut up, brain, shut up.

"Not fair." A crew-member grumbled. Then, Mr Shark, otherwise known as Mr Stupid-Name Basajaun, came forwards, and glanced around.

"Just make a slit up the back so the cat'll still hurt her." He said, his voice was still scary-as. It wasn't all gravelly and booming like most members of the crew, it was much softer, but still deadlier. He was also a lot more eloquent then the others in the crew.

Jimmylegs nodded to Tully to do so. He came towards me, looking slightly uncertain. Which was stupid, because I knew for a fact that Tully charged into battle, looking not uncertain at all. And now he had to cut a hole in a piece of fabric and he was looking all doubtful. He hooked out a small dagger rowed with what looked like the spines on a puffer fish.

"Get on with it, Tully." I said, in a friendly way. I do try to be sociable at all times.

He pulled my top back. I liked this top too... It was green, and had, 'ViOLeNTLY BEauTiFuL' written on the front, with small rainbows, clouds and suns around the words. I heard a faint ripping, and then there was a breeze on my back. I was going all tense now, expecting the blinding pain of the whip at any second, even though Tully hadn't even gotten out of the way yet. I tried to keep my breathing slow. Quite a few of the crew members were watching interestedly, and when I glanced up, I even saw a few that were meant to be sailing peering down from the rigs. I gave them a jaunty wave.

My heart was hammering. I tried to keep on smiling and looking all brave, and that little wave was a nice little touch there. But I was so scared. What was happening behind me? A freakish puffer fish-man with one huge eye and half of his face bloated, who was covered in small spines, supported one of my arms, and my other was being grabbed a hold of by Palafico.

"You're an idiot. Can't you ever shut up?" He muttered to me.

"Thanks a lot for the kind words." I replied. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath... mmm, the smell of the _Dutchman _again. It calmed me somewhat. But not much.

_Crack! _

My entire body shot forwards with the force of the whip. The crack echoed for a few seconds. For a moment, there was nothing. And then, suddenly, I had the feeling of ice on my back – ice so cold it stuck to my skin and burned me. And suddenly it turned into a ravaging fire; a lash of pain across my back, burning and flaming away, ouch, ouch, ouchie ouch. Even just thinking about it still makes me twinge... those scars never fully heal over, you know.

_Crack!_ I gasped this time... another layer of pain added on top of the one I just had. Nine hard, knotted leather whip-ends lashing into my back, sinking into flesh. _Crack!_ It felt like someone was peeling off the skin from my back, slowly pulling it all off. It hurt. A lot. _Crack! _

"Ouch," I muttered, choking on my words. _Crack!_ Puffer-fish man gently pulled me back, back towards the whips behind me, as the last whip had been particularly powerful and had knocked me forwards quite a bit. _Crack!_ Oh god. I hadn't been counting. Was I halfway there yet? I'd better be. Maybe this was the last one now. _Crack!_ I could feel the blood on my back now, pouring down in little hot rivulets, streaming down my back, trickling. _Crack!_ I liked to think of myself as having quite a high pain threshold. Once, I fractured my arm, but carried on like normal and didn't actually find out it was fractured for a whole four days. _Crack!_ So I liked to think of myself as brave. _Crack!_ But, well, this time... _Crack! _

Tears were stinging at my eyes, and I was breathing in and out quite quickly, my back hurt so much, it was like someone had covered it in petrol, and then dropped a match on it. But petrol wasn't even invented... Oh god, where was I? I wish I was home – there, I'd said it. _I wish I was home_. I didn't want to be here in this scary place, with all these scary things and... and... and...

I couldn't help it. I hardly ever cried, well, not in public anyway. But now the tears had started, the things that had gone wrong in the past few days, which was just about everything, caught up on me. Crying is like that. So I couldn't really help it... I bawled like a baby.

"Aww, Jimmy, you made her cry..."

* * *

(**NB:** Dadadah...)


	10. Chap 10: Following Polaris

**10) Following Polaris**

I felt so utterly humiliated beyond compare that I wanted to simply disappear forever and ever. Even a day later I was still off in sulk-ville... well, wouldn't you be? Everyone on the ship knew what had happened, and though they didn't make fun of me (to my surprise – I thought I'd be getting teased into my old age for the crying scenario), but it was just... argh! I had to get out of there. I wanted to leave.

Now, you know about the sprouting, right? Palafico had been quite an early sprouter, whereas my sprouting didn't begin for a few days after him. By the time my first signs of fishiness began showing, he already had some sort of coral exoskeleton over his skin, some of it on his face too, his hair had gone brittle (he really _was_ turning into a coral reef...) and was turning red and white, and, if possible, his newly pink-green eyes were getting even bigger. His boots were now getting covered in barnacles, and were beginning to grow together with the exoskeleton shell in his feet too.

"Why do we 'sprout' anyway?" I asked Tully once.

"Well, it's the curse that this ship's under." He replied, bracing a seaweed-covered boot against a cannon and yanking out the duck-brush. "Davy Jones has a duty... one that he is meant to be fulfilling... guiding the souls of those who have died at sea to the next world. But he abandoned it, when... something... happened. Now he causes his own shipwrecks, and gleans the lost souls as recruits on board the _Dutchman_."

"So... what happens to the souls of those that _do_ die at sea?" I asked, entranced, like a three-year-old being told a bedtime story.

"How am I meant to know?" He shrugged. "I chose service on board the ship over death... I never will know." He got a sort of far-away look in his eyes.

----------

Three days later, Tully was gone.

----------

"Is he... becoming part of the ship, do you think?" I asked Hadras one day, as we got ready to pull up the anchor. He blinked at me.

"Don't think so." He grunted, rubbing his hands together and placing them against the spokes coming out of the stake in the middle. It took about fifteen men to raise the humungous anchor on the _Dutchman_, and we all had to push this big wheel around. "Reckon he 'scaped."

"'scaped...? You mean, he escaped? There's a way out?" I asked, my eyes shining.

"Huh... Not really... Worse then it is here..." He wasn't exactly a conversationalist, ole Hadras. Also, English wasn't his first language, so... yeah. You will all fondly know him as 'the shell-headed one', no doubt. Jimmylegs was ordering people into position. Once we started turning the wheel, there would be no time for conversation, and I needed to find out desperately this 'way out'.

"Yes? What? How did he get out?" I asked.

"Swam, I 'spect... But if I were you, I wouldn't try it..." He turned his head to look at me. "Once you're off, the curse doesn't... stop. It gets worse. And you get... bad luck..." Jimmylegs cracked his whip in the air, the signal to start pushing, and start pushing _hard_. I don't know why I was hired to do this, seeing as I was no help whatsoever... perhaps even a hindrance, being the weakling that I was. Perhaps because they thought it was funny. But anyway.

Swimming away... It didn't seem such an impossible thought, now that I'd sprouted some.

----------

So what had I changed into? Well, the changes had shocked and depressed me at first, but hopefully... I'd get better at this whole 'dealing with terrible truths' thing soon enough. The first changes had been my skin losing it's colour, going sort of... grey-green. Very slowly, so I didn't notice at first, but I did after. Also, my skin began to lift, and go haywire, go a bit hard... and soon enough, I had myself some scales, smooth ones, all along my body.

The next change was... the gills. They opened up around my neck, six on each side, going down from just under my chin right down to my shoulder blades and around my collarbone... so I could 'breathe' underwater. A skill that was very useful, seeing as the _Dutchman_ can go under like a submarine, and crawl along the ocean floor, to surprise other ships.

We hadn't attacked any ships while I was on board yet... They were still 'breaking us in', as they so kindly put it. But apparently, soon, we would be going on yet another raid. Oh, joy unbounded! Not. I had to get out of there. But how? When? I would probably be a rather excellent swimmer in only a few days, seeing as my feet were growing uncontrollably. I sincerely hoped that this was part of the 'sprouting'. As I ran my fingers over my gills, I sighed, and hoped that my old friends and family would welcome me back, despite the... err, changes. They no longer fit into my converses (sniff – my babies) so I went barefoot. This would have hurt, apart from the fact that my skin was now exceptionally tough, and slightly hard. This is a hooray, but also a damnination, because... Well. I didn't really look all that normal any more.

The webbed fingers were _no_ help to this situation.

Also, it was true – my hair was growing oddly fast. All part of the sprouting process? I don't know. But what used to be a dyed-blonde, stylish bob was now a mass of curling, ginger hair falling down my back, with seaweed entwined through it. My face was still human-coloured, though, if you get what I mean. Though it's going a little scaly around the edges. And my skin has turned very odd and pale, making my (ugly) freckles stand out like... very ugly things.

Still... Once I've become a little more used to whatever it is I'm changing into, I shall be able to swim away! I need to talk this over with someone though. Who better then my good friend (ish), Palafico?

"Do you know where abouts we are?" I asked, sort of nonchalant-like. All innocent.

"For that, you need the navigation skills that I doubt you have." He replied. "And also, don't even think about swimming off."

"I – huh? No, I wasn't going to... well..." I glanced around. "I need to get out of here, buddy oh pal." I said, my back aching just from thinking about the cat-o'-nine-tails treatment I'd gotten not so long ago. "And I need to go _soon_ too, while I still look slightly normal and will be accepted back into society."

"While you look slightly _normal_?" He asked. "Bibsy, in case you didn't know, this curse _isn't_ going to stop the second you step off the ship. You know that, right? You're going to carry on changing, for ever? And you're never going to die either, because you're immortal now. Also, Davy Jones will hunt you down, and probably give you more then a whipping."

"But... Look, _Palafico_, I really don't give a flying toss what the little nit-picking details are. I just want to go home..." Gee, that sounded cliché. "Anyway. I'm going to go anyway. And if that requires me learning how to navigate... Then that is a-ok. It's not like anybody would miss me." Palafico had a weird expression on his face, like he had just accidentally swallowed something hideous.

"Well, if you think that..."

----------

But I guess I had made friends here, in a weird, not-very-friendly way. I mean, the thing about making friends on the _Dutchman_ is that you had to be prepared to stab each other in the back should the captain command it. Which he did, often, usually just for a jolly good laugh. He's a meanie, is old Davy. But perhaps, one of these days, my charming, charming personality will get through to him.

"_Koleniko_..." I said, in my most wheedling, pleading voice. I edged closer to him. Koleniko is the main navigator of the ship, and he uses his one large eye to search the skies especially. He's a weird looking one, even by our standards – half-puffer fish, half-man, he is slowly swelling, and apparently faces the fate of eventually becoming nothing but a big, round, prickly ball. Which sounds pretty painful.

"What do you want?" He asked. But it was in a friendly(ish) way. It was weird but the crew, they seemed to see me as... I don't know... just a little girl. Their innocent little sister that obviously still needed looking after. And I was quite a special case, you have to admit. Slowly, but surely, we were all sort of making friends. Perhaps they had taken a shine to me because of my loving and caring personality.

Ha ha hoo.

"Well..." I shifted in my oversized, mans shirt, which I had donned since my old one had a big tear in the back. I still wore it, but underneath the tattered, off-white, button-up shirt with too-long sleeves that I put on. I also occasionally tried abandoned sea-boots, ones big enough to occupy my new, huge flipper-feet, that was. "I would really like to learn to navigate. Pronto." I wondered if 'pronto' was a word used often back in 'these days'. Probably not. "I mean... quickly."

"Quickly, huh? Stellar navigation isn't something that you can learn in a few days." He said, cocking his head. "And why would I teach you anyway?"

"Because... You're nice and you love me?" I replied, giving him my most charming smile.

"Huh." He said. But he was smiling. There was hope after all! "Becoming _good_ at navigation can take years and years. But if you only wanted to know the shoddy little basic bits, then I guess you could probably pick it up in... a month or so." A month? That was a long time. But I had to do it. I must. "But teaching you stuff will probably be an almighty waste of time. So you could probably at least pay us back with a favour. Like the whole 'chef' business."

Ah yes. The 'chef' business. Y'see, one of the first things I'd been asked was if I was any good at cooking, at all. Probably because I was a girl. I laughed in their face... No, I wasn't the most brilliant chef in the world, and that is a huge understatement. And I didn't particularly enjoy cooking. But I realized soon after that... well, if my experience in cooking was 'nought'... theirs was in the minus numbers. It's like the just automatically did the wrong thing. So, mostly, this crew seemed to live off of raw fish. Not something I enjoyed.

"So... if I cook... you'll teach me to navigate." I said it as if I were testing the words out in my mouth, seeing if I could stomach the taste.

"Yes, I am." Koleniko said, turning to face me. "I expect it's something the rest of the crew would thank me for, too. So... is it a deal?" He asked, his one huge, green, fishy eye flicking from one of my eyes to the other and back again.

"Yeah... deal." I sighed. The sacrifices I made for my cause.

* * *

**(NB:** Thank you, Rokhal. I am really beginning to like you, heheh. Yup, time to move the plot ahead now.


	11. Chap 11: Grooving

**11) Grooving**

While the navigation lessons went on... well, I had a lot of time to kill. About an entire month. So I decided I might as well get to know the crew some more... you know? They were my friends (sort of) after all. So one day... a little thing called déjà vu struck, and once more we were all bored, and Davy was hammering away at his organ like nobody's business, and I suddenly got struck by this urge. I leapt to my feet.

"Come on, let's dance." I suddenly said. Various crew members gave me funny looks. Now that I had sprouted and was practically half fish, half dolphin, half god-knows-what, I was a more accepted member of the crew. But I'm pretty sure they still thought me as very, very weird. Especially as I was now moonwalking across the deck.

"What the hell is that?" Ives managed to ask.

"It's called the moonwalk. Just try it... it's harder then it looks." I said, doing another really crap moonwalk across the deck. "Look... you can add hand jives!"

I was... well, you know that you get the class clown sometimes in schools? I suppose I was a bit like that. At least I tried to break up the never-ending monotony of life on the _Dutchman_, by teaching them how to dance, attempting to teach them how to cook without causing a couple of near-fatal injuries, and telling them jokes that aren't old because they're from the future. Heh, that's the good thing about being here.

----------

The joy of dancing was not the only thing I'd brought to the ship. My modern language was also an asset that interested them. When I said something, quite a lot of the time they had to ask me to repeat it in their language. Quite a few times I'd been asked where I come from. "A little place called two thousand and seven." I'd chuckle. But they didn't ever get it.

----------

Navigating lessons were by far more boring then maths. A lot to do with measuring the latitude of Polaris, the north star, using the widths of my fingers. And Koleniko also showed me what was called a 'marine chronometer', to measure longitude, blah blah. I wont bored you with all the details. (**NB:** There is also the fact I don't _know_ all of the details... heh heh.) Let's just say that he was right, to become any sort of expert in it, it would take years. But I didn't have years.

In return, I had to cook for the crew. Oh, joy unbounded! But at least I was becoming more, well, 'popular', so to speak, within the _Dutchman_ crew. Being new in a crew is like being the new kid at school; it's hard, and you don't feel quite accepted into the 'gang' yet, and there were all these different cliques onboard. The most powerful by far were the most respected 'gang', first-mate Wyvern, with second-mate Maccus, Clanker was also part of this group; he was a very highly ranked member of the crew, being one of the best fighters, though I reckon he's also quite a nice guy. Tully also used to be part of this group; but by the time I'd come on board, he was clinging to the very edge of it. He'd began losing his touch, as I'd said.

Us 'newbies' had pretty much stuck together, but we were branching now. Friendships formed depending on what sort of person you were, what you were good at, what you weren't good at... I still hung out a lot with Palafico, but apart from him, I tried to keep tabs with, well, everyone. This meant that I had a lot of friends, although I lacked a closer circle of 'better friends', though I did have Palafico as one of those anyway.

See? Cliques form no matter what the situation is. It's a complicated process, though. Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes. Serving actual food for them so their only source of nutrition was no longer bits of clam they found growing in each others hair boosted my status, which was good. (Alright, I may be exaggerating the whole 'bits of clam in each others hair' thing. Or I may not...)

So anyway. A short, unblabbericated version of that is simply that I think I have found myself some friends, in this big scary old world. Which was really quite nice to know.

----------

Something was happening. Something out of the ordinary and not very good. I could feel it in the air, sort of thing; tensions had been running high. Crew members all over the ship were gossiping, sharing hearsay, and so on. And I knew what it was about. Because... just recently, there'd been a bit of a problem concerning the first mate and his apprentice. Wyvern, apparently, had been the first mate on board for a long, long time now – nearly, what, seventy years or so, rumour has it. But for the past twenty years or so, Maccus – hammerhead shark man – has been climbing the ranks. Younger, ambitious, a good fighter and rather sly, there's been talk for quite a while that he had his eye on the first-mate slot; second only to Captain Davy himself.

Despite the fact that they were the two most high-ranked members on board the _Dutchman_ besides the captain, and hung out with each other quite a lot, they didn't actually get on all that well. There was a lot of friction between them; big, strong, fearless, first-mate Wyvern had heard the stories about Maccus' aspirations to take his position, and had become wary of him. Wyvern had been first mate for a long, long time – lots of people said that as time went on, he was becoming weaker, his power receding.

The first mate of any ship knows everything that happens on board, not so much unlike Davy himself. He shared all of the secrets of the ship, and probably knew mostly everything there was to know about the captain; more then everyone else, anyway. However, the first mate of _this_ ship happened to know that if Maccus was to rise up to the challenge any day now, Davy Jones wouldn't try to stop him. In fact, he may even stay around and watch the fight.

Unrest amongst the crew was rare, usually – to be in a crew with a bunch of people who were strangers not so long ago... you have to bond quickly. Quite often, your life lies in the hands of the people around you, especially on a ship as dangerous as the _Flying Dutchman_. I guess that if you're forced into a situation you _do_ learn to love them; so to speak. No romance going on here though.

(Though, you know, sometimes I suspect one or two of the crew might be, well, on the turn, batting for the other side, insert other various crude sayings basically meaning homosexual here...I kid you not.)

Heh. Sorry for that little interlude there. _Anyway..._ So this was a Fight to the Death scenario. Most people believed that Maccus wouldn't risk picking fights against the first mate – but most people are wrong at some point in their life, and this could be one of those times. Y'see, though we're immortal, if you fight someone in the crew, and you lose, and it's a Big and Serious thing like this is – well, the loser basically vanishes in shame. Goes below decks, to meld with the walls and become part of the ship for ever and ever.

This was not something I wanted, in particular, to happen to either Wyvern or Maccus. Wyvern; he was your typical bossy-type. Could be arrogant and a complete arse at times, he was known as pretty much the best fighter on board. (Clanker is well known for his fighting skills, but isn't interested at all in the first mate position, for some reason) He's tall, bulky, the alpha male, I guess.

And Maccus... well, what can you say? Younger, quicker, sharper, and with extreme ambitions, I doubted that he was afraid of anything, he was quite scary, in a mad, reckless sort of way. Does that make any sense? Maccus, generally, was a lot more fun then Wyvern, which won him the crew's support on most fronts, because Wyvern, to be honest, could be quite a jerkwad. Not that he knows what that even _is_. But something that gets on my nerves about the way he (Maccus) sucks up to Davy. Rrr.

But anyway. That was sort of far from my mind at the time a few of crewmembers burst into the bilge-deck while me and some others were twining some ropes, like excited schoolboys, and announced that Maccus and Wyvern were battling it out on the front deck. Alright, even though I don't believe in violence (snerk), I did have to go and see this one. I knew very well that this could – and undoubtedly _would_ – turn ugly, but, well, this was the fight of the century as far as the _Dutchman_ was concerned. Who would be our next first mate? Who would end up gone, forever? Well, only time would tell...

* * *

**NB:** Thank you for your kind comments! Perhaps my reviews will break into double figures at last... Heh heh, oh well, as long as I have someone reading it I shall continue to update. Glad to have your support, Adivera. I shall leave you now... the plot thickens... dum dum dum!

So you might be thinking, "WHAT PLOT?!" well... shh.


	12. Chap 12: Homesick Fever

**12) Homesick Fever **

It was a furious battle, and one that practically all of the crew saw. The ones working the sails at the time were looking down from above, the best seats in the house, in my opinion. They pulled ropes and had to get the sails back under control sometimes, as was their job, but otherwise they could watch quite easily. Me, Palafico and some others were clinging to one of the rope-ladders that led up to the riggings, watching, fascinated.

I had _never_ seen anything fight like these two. Though they both tried to keep things light-hearted usually, this was serious business. They fought like wildcats; using anything and everything; Wyvern had some pretty nasty crab claws on his hand, and Maccus was using a swordfish spine as a blade, causing some pretty nasty wounds.

"Oh, god... ouch." I muttered, wincing, as Wyvern, with a sudden leap, sent both him and Maccus crashing to the boards, and then in an inane plunge clawed one of his eyes out – one of the ones that was on his face; he had three others, but this one had been one of his main ones. Maccus roared, pain, rage, I don't know which – probably both. There were other mutterings amongst the crew. With Davy's dramatic organ playing as the perfect backing track for the scene, we watched, most of the crew were transfixed, but I myself was horrified; I'd never seen anything like it. Only yesterday they had been playing Liars Dice, talking, in fact as I remember it, Maccus had been resting his feet on the crate Wyvern had been sitting on, and they'd both been laughing.

Things change, I guess... But I realized that these creatures on board the _Dutchman_, they were, well... killers. They were vicious fighters. I got another, sudden pang for home. But I held it in, and went through with watching the whole fight, interested despite myself.

----------

The fight went on for a very, very long time. But there could only be one. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I guess both of them could be complete arses at times, but that was what made them first-mate material, I suppose. I suspected strongly that Clanker could easily get the position, but he didn't want to. But I would have liked Clanker as first mate... he was much nicer. (Away from the battlefield.)

----------

Soon after, Maccus was pledged in as first mate, and Wyvern... sent down below decks.

Possibly never to be seen again... But that is the _merde_-pile of life. I will go and visit him, though, because I happen to know that despite acting like King Prat on his High Horse when he was first-mating around the ship in front of everyone, when he was on his own, he was actually quite a nice feller.

----------

A few days later, it was another navigating lesson with Koleniko. He was telling me his usual jargon, and he was talking about how the time of year, in fact the exact date, affected the night skies greatly. He was doing his nodding like a wise old dog thing – he did that quite a lot. Anyway. And he was just going on about the usual stuff – blah blah blah longtitude, blah blah blah polaris, blah blah blah playboy – when he dropped the date into the sentence.

"...it's autumn now, October the tenth, so that means the positions of..." October the tenth. As in... 10th October. The rest of what he said was obliterated by my thought beginning to bubble around in my head like mad bubbling things. Was it really that time already? Time had flown. Today was a day I'd been waiting for for... well, very nearly a year. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, really I didn't.

It was my seventeenth birthday.

----------

And soon, months had passed.

And soon, I felt that I knew enough.

And soon, it was time to go...

----------

I was below decks of the _Dutchman_, having a complete dithering attack. I'd pushed a cannon out of the way, leaving a neat little gap, just about big enough for me to squeeze out of. I looked out into the unforgiving sea. I'd snacked quite a lot, and drank quite a lot – being immortal, I didn't need to eat or drink to live any more, however I could still feel hunger, and it was not a nice feeling to swim on. I also felt incredibly nervous. I guess the water wasn't too inviting to me, seeing as I'd drowned not so long ago. Or... perhaps it had been long ago. I couldn't tell... Surely it hadn't been that long?

Right, okay, I had to go now. It was now or never. So _move_.

"Bibs? What're you...?" A familiar voice behind me. Damn that Palafico! I'd been _sure_ that he'd been busy with the sails when I came down here! And he never, ever tried to find me, but now, he had to do the lost-puppy act on me. I looked down into the waves, already imagining how cold they were. I heard the footsteps stop, right behind me. "You're... going?"

"Well... yeah." I said, swallowing. "I _have_ to, Palafico. I don't care if I have to swim a bajillion kilometres and a half, I need to get home."

"...kilometres?" Damn, they don't know metric measurements, do they? Jeesh. "But Bibs... you're not considering swimming from _here_ to _England_?" I turned around at last, and saw that he was staring at me, half as if I were the most stupid person on earth, and half something else. I wasn't sure what.

"Look, I need to go. I've learned to navigate... check. I know where we are... check. I know roughly which direction to go in, and I am also immortal, so I can't die, so I _wont_ die on my way. I will find my way back to England, and to Weymouth, and the cave, and then, zorp!" Palafico just shook his head as if I were mad.

"Do you live in a cave?" He asked. I realized that, well, he didn't know about the whole future-past thing that had happened. I had completely failed to mention that to anyone. Well, could you blame me? As if they'd believe me. They'd cart me off to an asylum double quick... if they were even invented. Then again, they already thought I was mad. "Bibsy... how did you end up drowning at sea? It's _sailors_ who get a second chance at life with Davy Jones; _good_ ones. And you are not one of those."

"Well..." I sighed. "You're not going to believe me. But here it goes." I looked at him. "I'm not from these times. This sounds weird but I'm actually from the future, way into the future. When ships are made of metal and buildings are made of glass. And everything is different. I don't really know what happened, not at all, but somehow... somehow I ended up here, in the wrong time altogether. That's why I talk weird – that's how the language has changed! And that's why I was wearing weird clothes; these are what we wear in the future! And... and... it's been so complicated." I sighed. I looked at him, my best friend. "You believe me, don't you?" I asked him. How could I have doubted him? Palafico was my best ever friend on board the _Dutchman_, the only one I had who was actually born yet; perhaps we had some sort of connection now, we were really quite close after all. Though our meeting had been quite a chance one, I felt that maybe things would end up alright – and I thought, I'd miss him. He blinked, cocked his head, and his eyes were big and kind as he replied...

"No, I don't believe you," he said, "And that is because you are talking complete bollocks."

----------

Needless to say, I was pretty annoyed with him, though _he_ seemed to find it quite funny. I grit my teeth to stop a grin from somehow wandering onto my face, and folded my arms, tossing my ginger hair in a manner that suggested I was less then pleased with him. I hope.

"I'm being _serious_, Palafico!" I hissed, elbowing him quite sharply.

"So am I!" He shrugged, "Look, Bibsy, I always knew you were strange, but... You're from the future? And ships are made of _metal_? Doesn't metal _sink_?" He asked. I opened my mouth, and closed it again. "Are you sure this wasn't some sort of... dream you had?"

"Yes, I'm sure." I grumbled. "But I never told anyone because I just _knew_ nobody would believe me. And there you go, proving I was right again, mister." I said, sticking my nose up.

"Alright, alright... So if you're from the future... How come you didn't know who Davy Jones was? Surely he's... _famous_? Or infamous." He added the last bit quietly. "And, well... I don't know. I guess in a really screwed-up way, it does make sense, but..." Well of course the plot was completely silly and screwed up all over the place, that suited this story fine, given the way things had been going just recently. "...I don't know."

"Davy Jones is, um, a singer in the future." I said. "I don't think it's the same guy, though." I thought of some of his lyrics. _Girl, look what you've done to me, Me, and my whole world, Girl, you brought the sun to me, Girl, you did it with your smile._ "Or maybe it is... I am perfect inspiration for lovely songs after all."

"What?" Palafico wasn't following.

"Davy Jones was in the Monkees, you know." I said, knowingly.

"...Right." Palafico looked slightly worried. "Look, Bibs, are you... really going to go? You're going to _swim_ all the way to England? Have you even considered how far that is? Do you even know where we _are?_"

"Of course I do," I said, "We're in the east of the Caribbean Ocean."

"But do you know where that is?" Palafico said.

"It's near Venezuela," I said, in my best knowing voice. Palafico put his face close to mine.

"But _where_ is _Venezuela_, Bibsy?" He said in a very slow voice, as if he was talking to someone who was mentally handicapped.

"Well, it's... Well... What's the point in knowing such silly little details anyway, I mean, it's not like, well, it is going to, but, well we, I mean I, I am immortal and..." I wasn't making too much sense.

"You don't know where it is, do you?" He asked.

"I – but – well – so what is geography isn't my best subject! I know the way back, right? I have to go east and a bit north for a long time." Even to myself I sounded uncertain, now.

"Geogra- what? Bibsy, are you telling me you are planning on swimming across the _Atlantic Ocean?_" Now he was looking at me as if I not only was an extremely mad person on holiday in madland, but also as if I'd developed some highly acute sensoring antennae in the middle of my forehead which had one hundred and eighty degree rotation... which I wouldn't be at all surprised about, given the sprouting situation.

"Well... I guess so..." I said. "Look, I can do it, alright? I am a full, responsible adult. I'm nearly eighteen, you know! And now that I've been growing gills and flippers all over the place, well, I'm sure I'd feel at _home_ in the water."

"Bibsy. That is the most stupid plan I have ever heard of. Look, you are not going to die, but you are going to sink to the bottom of the ocean without a trace and get stranded down there because you wont have the energy to swim back up, and then suffer the fate of starving to death over and over and over again because you can't die. And possibly drowning again and again too." Palafico shook his head. "Why are you so desperate to just leave already? You know, life isn't too bad on board the _Dutchman_."

"Oh, yes, apart from the occasional _beatings and whippings._" I said, sarcastically. "Other then that, it's superb, having a sadistic, butt-licking Monkee-member scrotum-bag as captain and having to constantly work so hard I ache permanently, and..."

"But..." Palafico opened his mouth, and then closed it again, as if restarting his sentence. "Look, if you want to go, then fine. I'm just trying to look out for you here, because this is ridiculous."

"Fine." I said. "Well, I will go, if you don't mind." I snapped.

"I don't." He said, sharply as he could, which wasn't as sharply as you'd have thought for a member of Davy Jones' crew. I expected he was sad to see me go; I am, after all, a very lovely and charming person. Or maybe it was just because we'd made friends. I looked at the floor.

"Bye, buddy oh pal." I said, feeling inexplicably sad now that it really was time for the final goodbye. I guess you do bond quickly when thrown into life-threatening situations with people. Bonded by trauma, I think it's called. "It was fun while it lasted."

"Bye, Bibs from the Future." He said. I did a quick burst of moonwalk-hand-jiving and saluted him, and he gave a small salute back, smiling.

I took one last deep sniff, smelling the lovely smell of the Dutchman, and then I squeezed out through the cannon hole, and dropped down into the sea.

* * *

**NB:** ...This is not the end...


	13. Chap 13: Gone

**13) Gone**

"...Ouch! Buggering hells bells, arse-prats, sodding sodden pantaloonies and double _merde!_" I cursed as the salt water worked it's magic on the still-achey wounds in my back. Christ, this wasn't something I'd counted on.

"Are you alright down there?" Palafico stuck his head out of the cannon hole.

"Perfect." I croaked. No, I didn't have time for another touching goodbye! Had to go before someone saw! "See ya long, sucker." I said with a smile.

"Bye, loser." He replied. Gosh, he'd gotten a hang of this modern-language thing surprisingly well. I let my humungous flipper-feet work their magic, and I was shocked at how fast I was moving. I dived under the waves, streaming along underwater, going deeper and deeper. I opened my eyes a little, and was surprised at the fact that they didn't immediately start sizzling and burning away in the salt water, and I could see! I blinked, and then realized... I had a sort of second, see-through layer on my eyes, like crocodiles did, do protect my eyes from the salty water. Good thinking, batman!

Now, until then, I'd been kicking my legs separately, but now... something happened, like instinct. My legs suddenly snapped together, as if they belonged joined, and I began moving them up and down together. My feet weren't joined, the stuck out like flippers... My legs had turned into a mermaid tail! Shocked, I jerked my legs apart, scared they'd be stuck like that forever, but they came apart with a slight popping sensation. Hmm.

I felt through my trousers, and realised there was a weird sort of flap in my skin, so that my legs could join together into the one-fin-thing if I so desired. This was most odd... but useful. Onwards, soldiers! Squeezing my legs together until they popped once more into a tail-type thing, I propelled myself through the ocean. Woohoo! This was the life! Speeding along like nobody's business! I felt like nobody, or nothing could ever catch me in the sea. It felt like home here. As my gills filtered the oxygen out of the water and my tail whooshed me along with a power I never knew I possessed, I felt like a superhuman, the fastest thing on the planet, catch me if you can, losers!

I wanted to twirl, dance, spin around and around and play, I shot down deeper and deeper, wanting to stay out of view, but still wanting to have light help me see. Or did I? Sight didn't really seem to matter that much any more. Somehow, I felt like all of my senses were magnified. I cautiously let instinct take over me, to see what would happen. Instinct is a most wonderful thing, built right into your very genes, people!

Spinning around in the water, I carried on swimming fast, on my back, and a few metres above me the water ended, and through the waves, I could very faintly see the sky, and a distorted sun, with rays of light coming down in moving, swirling patterns. I sucked in water, and the excess shot from my gills, but the oxygen went down into my lungs; I was breathing water, wowee! I imagined what would happen when I got home – I would be a miracle. I'd be famous too; who wouldn't pay to see the half-dolphin, half-fish, half-alligator girl, zooming through the water at the speed of light? I wanted to laugh and play and dance forever, I felt so full of energy and bubblegum-pink happiness. I opened my mouth and made a weird clicky sound, and almost immediately an image built up in my head; where everything was. In the murky water I couldn't see too far ahead of me, but, well, now...

_Sonar,_ I thought, _Dolphins use sonar to see where they're going. Is that what I'm using now?_ I didn't really care. I turned over again so I was swimming with my back to the surface, and went down even deeper, because something in my mind told me too. I opened my mouth and barked out the high-pitched sound again, and then suddenly in my mind blossomed a black-and-white image of hundreds of thousands of fish, darting around together.

Finding myself irresistibly drawn to the shoal, within a few strokes of my tail I'd propelled my self right through the centre, splitting them up into two groups. Laughing, I turned and shot through the centre of the huge group of fish again, diving in loops and circles, and then suddenly...

Ugh, ugh, ugh, buggerations! Gross... I wasn't too sure what had happened. One minute I was swimming happily through the fish, and then, I couldn't stop myself – suddenly I just took a huge bite out of one, chomping the live fish down easily, swallowing it after only a few bites. Immediately I felt sick – I'd always hated fish... And I'd just eaten one _alive_... Ugh! The taste hadn't been that bad, for some reason; perhaps my taste buds had changed too. But still. Live fish! Disgusting or what...? I shot out of the shoal of fish, continuing with my journey, shaking my head and spitting out bits of fin and whatnot that were stuck in my teeth. I ran a finger over one – odd, my teeth were strangely pointed.

No wonder it'd been so easy to rip into one of the fishies; this change was sort of scary. I didn't really want to become Dolphin-girl – so much for everything going back to normal. And I couldn't help but think of what waited for me at home... a normal life was what I'd wanted, everything back to normal. I thought about the 'drama' – the closest thing to an adventure being which of my friends to believe about some rumour or other. And boyfriend stealing? Please, Kimmy was welcome to him. I'd always thought he was as dumb as a sack of rocks anyway.

Slowing down a little, conserving energy, I let the thoughts drift through my mind. The _Dutchman_ crew. Perhaps I'd miss them... In only a month or so, I felt I'd made as good – if not better – friends with them then the ones I had at school. We had good times but, well; nothing can really compare to something like this, can it? And, well, would they believe my story? Would they really? No, I doubted it. _I went into the past and became part of this crew of sea-monsters with a singer from the Monkees as my captain, and I totally escaped and swam across the Atlantic to get back home!_

Maybe not.

----------

Unknown to me, shortly after I'd left, this small scene had occurred...

Palafico, after seeing me vanish down below the waves, walked back into the below decks, folding his arms. No doubt thinking about how much he was going to miss me... heh, heh. He was about to push the cannon back into position, cover up my tracks for me like a good mate, when...

"She has no idea, does she?" Palafico jumped at the voice, speaking in a heavy, Scottish drawl. He turned around to face his captain.

"N-no, I don't think she does, sir... Are you going to... Retrieve her?" To be honest, Palafico was probably relieved that my little plot to escape had been found out, only moments after I'd leapt overboard the _Dutchman_. Now that I think back, his doubts were all perfectly sane, and my plan had been one of the most hair-brained, and rather stupid plans ever to crawl out of a Famous Five book.

"Not personally, no." See, that's just the sort of caring captain Davy is. He can't even be arsed to turn the ship off of it's course to go and fetch a member of it's crew. "I'm going to send a good friend after her. Hopefully she'll make it back in one piece..."

"Oh... you're... wait. You're not sending...?" Palafico bit his lip, and glanced around the hold, he wasn't as brave (i.e., stupid) as me, so wasn't into back-chatting the captain. "If you think, sir..."

"Are you suggesting I don't?" He asked, but it was said lightly. Palafico wondered, suddenly, how Davy had gotten down here so quietly. Didn't he usually go everywhere pretty loudly, crab leg a-thudding? Or perhaps not. That was probably simply for the intimidation factor. That's what decent bad guys everywhere go for; intimidation. It gives them that edge.

"No, sir." Palafico said meekly, fiddling with the edge of one tattered cuff. "So shall I tell the others...?" He wasn't too happy with the situation; it had just gotten from bad to worse. When Davy Jones referred to his 'good friend', everyone who was anyone knew that he meant...

"Time to send Davy Junior on a wee retrieval mission." Davy said, and he had that mean look about him that he got sometimes, and that glint in his eye that he got at the mention of his dearest pet...

The Kraken. (Cue dramatic music and lots of explanation marks for excitement!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

* * *

**NB:** Dum dum dummm! Davy's bringing out the big guns! Thanks for reviews, they are wonderful.


	14. Chap 14: Just Keep Swimming

**14) Just Keep Swimming **

I had no idea about the trouble I was in. I was simply swimming along. Swimming, swimming, just keep swimming, where'd I hear that before? Ah yes, that ever-wise and articulate movie, _Finding Nemo_, with it's lovely songs and ditties. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

It had been two days and two nights, now. During daylight, I swam quite deep down, so that I wouldn't be spotted. It was rather interesting, actually. Anchors signalled where ships had stopped at sea, and sometimes I contemplated leaping up out of the water and exposing myself (ooer) to sailors, to start more rumours of beautiful (snerk snerk) mermaids and suchlike. But I never gave in to the urges, and just kept swimming, swimming, just kept swimming. Sometimes I'd pass more shoals of fish, and once a couple of nurse sharks, which made me nervous, but they simply bulleted off at the sight of me.

At night I shot to the surface, because being deep underwater in the dark scared me – I had my sonar, and I could still see a-ok, but the dark, swirling waters of the sea at night made me nervous. I felt like a right namby-pamby softie, but I guess drowning can spark off a slight fear of dark waters.

I looked up to the stars as I swam on my back, keeping my eyes on Polaris, the big dipper, and – well, erm, that was about all that I learned. Now, one of Koleniko's fingers had been as wide as two of mine, so I measured double the amount when judging distances between the horizon and Polaris. Ooh, technical term; most people just call it the north star, but knowing it's Real Name (Polaris) made me feel smarter about navigation.

Check the direction, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming, just keep swimming...

----------

On board the _Dutchman_, Captain Davy walked up to the anchor peg, and gave one of his scary smiles. Really, his smiles were scary enough to give nightmares to the fainthearted. He pressed down on the wood, and the peg jolted, before sinking down with a hiss.

Somewhere off the coast of Mexico, the Kraken turned suddenly, and began heading for home... Back towards it's master. It had a mission.

----------

As the day dawned for the third day swimming (swimming, just keep swimming...), I was going considerably slower. I hadn't rested in quite a while, and also, I sort of loathed to eat raw fish, though I closed my eyes and let my sonar and instincts do the work occasionally, when the hunger just got unbearable. My webbed fingers were also a good help in these times; using my arms literally doubled my speed when I could be bothered.

I was getting bored, and my muscles were aching, after all this time swimming. Also, I feared I was becoming slightly unhinged. (Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, just keep swimming... aargh!) I wondered how much longer it would be before I arrived at home sweet home. (Little did I know that I hadn't even left that Caribbean ocean yet, and even if I had, I was veering off coarse and heading more towards North Africa then Europe...) I dived through the crystal clear water, shooting downwards, I looked below me and thought I saw something moving, way down in the darkness, far, far below.

It was impossible to see the bottom of the ocean from here; it was far too deep. I was in a dip in the ocean at the moment. Far below, the water faded into navy blue darkness. I squinted, though – whatever I'd just seen moving, it was _mega_. As in _huge_. Whatever it was, it was keeping still now. I couldn't see that far down, and if something was there, it probably knew it.

Hmm; I wasn't too sure if I wanted to find out what was down there. It was probably nothing. Eyes playing tricks – sunlight reflecting off of barracuda's shiny hide – it could have been anything. After a minute or two, though, I could stand it no more. My curiosity was driving me crazy, and also, that inane feeling of being watched had stolen over me, and it was driving me mental. I just had to find out. So, warily, I sent a calling down there, and closed my eyes, wondering what I'd find.

Oh. God.

Buggering bummy bugger bums! What on _earth_? From what I could see, there was one hell of a giant squid down there... but that doesn't do it _justice_. My heart was hammering; I was scared witless at the sight of it. Bigger then any whale I'd ever seen, and I had swam by some humpbacks just the other night, and though their size had made me nervous, I knew they were peacelovers and simply swam by.

But this squid... bigger then ten of them! Possibly bigger then twenty of them! It stretched away, there wasn't enough room in my eyesight to see how big it was... Massive, writhing tentacles, reminiscent of Davy's beard, except a thousand times bigger; most of the tentacles probably wider then I was tall! It's humungous shape, easily the length of ten ships, resting down there; and one huge, bulbous eye, perhaps half the size of me, looking upwards towards the sky, towards me. I started pushing myself to go faster, my heart hammering.

I wasn't too sure what squids ate. Not people, right? Or dolphins. Or a squid that size, perhaps they did. It's massive, jellysome head stretched out, and I wondered if it was sleeping, or even dead, when I noticed again; a slight glint, the sun catching one of those gigantic, rounded suckers on the backs of its tentacles. Oh god. Oh god.

Trying to calm myself down, I made myself go slower; it was so big, I was getting no further from it anyway. With a kick of my tail, I wooshed forwards, and I found myself trying to make as little noise as possible. _Nice, squid, niiice. No need to attack me now. Just passing through; nothing more..._ I swallowed, curling my hands and using them to push more water, sending me propelling through the water once more. The thing didn't move. See? It was fine. It wasn't about to-

There was a sudden sound of rushing water. Sand shot up from the bottom of the sea, clouding the water, making it hard to see. I began swimming upwards, too nervous now to just carry on, and as the dust began overtaking me, I looked downwards, knowing there was only one thing that was huge enough to make practically the entire sea bed shoot up with a single movement. _It's just moving. Going somewhere else. Of course it is._ Then I saw tentacles below me, and I caught sight of a gaping huge mouth. Oh. My. Goodness.

Row after row after row of sharp, deadly teeth, all centred around a gaping black hole that this thing probably fondly referred to as a throat. Each tooth was nearly as big as me, and covered in slime, and what I am sure was corpses. The inside was pinkish, and undulating slightly, and it was rushing up to meet me. Turning my head back forwards, I lowered my chin to my chest and kicked my tail with all of my might, streaming up towards the surface, so quickly that my blood boiled and my feet ached and I could hear the water screaming past my ears.

I kept my eyes on the light above me – _come to the light, Bibsy, come to the light!_ – and I kicked with all of my strength. I forgot everything – getting home, the _Dutchman_, Palafico, swimming the Atlantic, Davy Jones – it all swept out of my mind in a tidal wave of panic. All I could concentrate on was getting out of here alive.

Oh, god, argh, argh! I had to make it out of here, I must – I had done so much, given up everything in order to go home, I couldn't go through all of that, only to be gulped down by a giant squid! Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming, just keep swimming – faster, faster!

The thing's tentacles shot past me, and the mouth was gaining on me, I could feel it; panic coursed through me, live, liquid adrenaline, my guts were jelly and my heart seemed to have expanded to fill my entire chest, and I had never swam so furiously in all of my life. Gills pumping, tail beating the water furiously, arms scooping huge handfuls of water and pushing it behind me, I was so close now, so close to the surface – some of the tentacles had broken the surface already, and were going up towards the sky, and the mouth must be right behind me now, in fact I was certain something had touched my feet just a moment before...

Suddenly, I was out, I'd burst through the surface of the water, and my force carried me upwards, right into the air – I writhed and flipped as I went upwards; and there was one of those horrible moments, mid-air, when everything seemed to stand still.

And then... I started to fall back down towards the sea.

* * *

**NB:** Oooooh cliff hanger or what?! Just saying a thank you kindly to Lone Wolf, my anonymous reviewer, who is also very dedicated. I wonder how long I'll leave this cliff, er, hanging for? I don't know.


	15. Chap 15: Retreival Mission

**15) Retrieval Mission**

Palafico, Koleniko, Clanker, Ives and some others were sitting around on some crates, vaguely chatting. Koleniko was shaking his head in a disbelieving manner.

"_That's_ why Bibsy wanted to learn to navigate? So she could find her way back to _England_? That's a bit... no, that's _very_ far. Across the Atlantic. What was she thinking?" There were various sounds of agreement as Koleniko continued, "I _knew_ teaching navigation to someone as divvy as her would only lead to trouble... And now... what?"

"Davy's sent the Kraken after her." Palafico said, picking up a die (**NB:** singular for dice.) and then twirling it across the top of a crate, sending it spinning like a top.

"What, to... eat her? Send her to the locker? What?" Asked Clanker, seeming interested.

"I don't know... He said 'retrieval mission'... I have no idea what he means." Palafico sighed. "She is _such_ an idiot."

"Huh." Ives said.

"Huh." The others repeated.

----------

Captain Davy was sitting on his cabin, not even considering the fact that his Kraken would fail him. Because it wouldn't fail – it was physically impossible that the Kraken would fail. It didn't matter what happened, what obstacles got in the way; the Kraken would get you in the end if Davy had commanded it. And Davy _had_ commanded it. He wondered when the silly girl (i.e. me) would get the picture that he heard everything that happened on board the _Dutchman_, with no exceptions, unless he was asleep or away from the ship?

_"It's superb, having a sadistic, butt-licking Monkee-member scrotum-bag as captain..."_ Hmm, that was what she thought, eh? Monkey member? Well, he had to hand it to her, she certainly topped on the 'most random and original and slightly mad insults' side of life. But other then that, he was afraid that she was a little bit dim.

Escape from the _Dutchman_? Hah, as if...

----------

So you're probably wondering what happened to me now. Or are you? I guess cliff-hangers are just fun that way, but they suck if they're drawn out too long in a really cheesy and crappy way, don't you think? I'm just like, GET ON WITH IT YOU STUPID EXCUSE OF AN AUTHOR, whenever that sort of thing happens, because it's just really sooooo annoying, isn't it?!

-----------

As I plummeted back towards the gaping hole beneath me, I risked a look down. Oh _nooo_, now the last thing I ever saw was going to be the rows of razor sharp, deadly teeth almost as big as me, turning inside the cavernous gap beneath me, with a huge tongue covered in protruding taste buds and yellowy greenish slime, and that disgusting stench on it's breath, phew-ee! It could have used a few (million) tictacs! Oh, shut up brain, shut _up_. It stank of rot, of decomposing flesh and disgusting dead bodies.

One of which I was about to become. Christ, what could I do now? There was nothing I could do. Everything was going in slow motion now. I twisted about in the air, trying to somehow make myself shoot out in a different direction. I spotted a small ship nearby. Two members of it's crew that were meant to be swabbing the deck were sat there, staring.

I just had time to blink demurely at one of them (the fit one), before my freefall sped up and I plopped right through the rows of sharp teeth, and into the squidthing's mouth. Before I'd even had time to bounce, the mouth snapped shut above me, and I heard a resounding crash, the sound of the big beastie diving back down into the ocean, and then there was some slight movement as it began to swim. I shook my head, trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

Nope, couldn't do it.

What in the name of unholy feather dusters?! Okay, it was good that I was still alive. I stood up, and immediately fell down again, onto it's disgusting, squishy tongue. Uuurgh. Suddenly, the tongue wrapped itself around me, holding me in place. Oh, yuckaroonies! I struggled, but the tongue-grip simply got tighter, so eventually I stopped. It was pitch black in here, and I could hear the steady boom of the giant squid's heart.

I pulled one of my arms out of the tongue-grip, and waved it in front of my face. Nope, nothing. The big old squid was moving now, I could hear it's powerful tentacles, and the water whooshing past. I closed my eyes, feeling slightly travelsick. Well no wonder, seeing as I was going backwards. This was really quite odd. Why hadn't the squid chomped me up and swallowed me whole yet? Why was it keeping me safe inside it's tongue while it swam somewhere? This didn't make any sense at all.

Unless... the squid was in league with Davy?! Perhaps they were distant relatives. I wouldn't be that surprised. Okay, shut up Bibsy. Shut up, shut up.

Gahh. It stank to high heavens in here. Rotting flesh and bad breath and body odour and eggy man-socks all in one overpowering stench. I suddenly felt tired. Inside the mouth of a huge, flesh-eating squid is not a good place for a nap, Bibsy! Jeesh, but swimming for, what, seventy-two hours straight, that _had_ been pretty tiring, and after all, if I was going to die, better to go in my sleep, right?

My eyelids began to feel very heavy, and soon I was finding it hard to keep myself awake. Maybe I'd just give in. Close my eyes. No, I mustn't! Alright, alright, I wasn't giving up. Just resting my eyes, that's all...

Just resting my eyes...

----------

On board the _Dutchman_, several crew members felt a sudden jolt. Inky, a crew-member who was up in crows nest at the time, shouted down, "Kraken!" That was all the signal the crew needed; they all knew what it meant. The Kraken was here. The door to Davy's cabin burst open, and he stepped out, looking out over the ocean, and saw a huge clouded area of the ocean, spreading closer and closer towards their ship. Excellent; the Kraken was back within two hours with the young lass.

Suddenly, tentacles jetted out of the water, and the suckers got a tight hold of the _Dutchman_, making the ship rock slightly. A couple of crew members staggered, but leapt back to their feet immediately, and went back to their jobs. The Kraken, using the _Dutchman_ to support itself, raised it's huge head above the water, it's mouth facing the ship. A couple of the newer crew members peered interestedly at the rows of massive teeth, but most simply continued with their work.

From the Kraken, there was a deep rumble, a sort of hacking sound, like a cat about to cough up a hairball... How _undignified_.

----------

The hole suddenly opened up above me. I looked up, and saw wood. Huh? Hang on... Before I could do anything, the tongue uncurled, and then putrid air was blowing all around me. I was about to grab onto something instinctively, to stop myself from flying out of the mouth, but then I realized I wanted to get out, so I let myself be blown out of the mouth.

There was a booming sound, and I was suddenly hurtled out of the Kraken at about five-hundred miles an hour, and I plummeted downwards, (which I thought was upwards) and tumbled across hard, damp decking, landing at Davy's feet. I coughed, and looked up at him.

"Thought you could escape, eh?" He asked.

"I love you, man." I said, drowsily, "Peace out." And then my head thudded back down to the deck, and I was snoring peacefully. I'm pretty sure I caught a somewhat horrified expression on his face, though. But he recovered himself presently. He had more punishment planned for me because of my escaping and monkey-member extravaganza... Oh yes.

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**NB:** Well. Bibsy survived the kraken. Now for Davy... Thank you for reviews, they are all much appreciated.


	16. Chap 16: Prisoner

**16) Prisoner **

When I woke up, I glanced around, and realized I was in a place I didn't recognize. Or did I? Urrmm. I was in some sort of cage, with... oh. Below decks. In those horrible iron cagey things that Davy has, 'just in case' he needs to lock someone up, chains and all. (Hmm... kinky.) I sat up, and looked blankly at the door, but knew there wasn't any point in even trying to open it, because it would sure as hell be locked. To stop me escaping, huh? Ha, ha, very funny.

Now when was he going to get down here, tell me that BIBSY BAD, and then let me out already? Ok, ok, so my desperate attempt at escape hadn't worked, but still... I looked around, and stood up, stretching my poor, achey bones. I jumped at the sound of a voice.

"Heh... you're in deep trouble now..." I turned towards the sound. It was Wyvern... though I didn't recognize him at first. He was very, very thin now, his face hollowed out and gaunt, and his eyes burned in their sockets, which seemed to have faded away into barely anything. Did that make sense? I don't know, leave me alone...

"Wyvern...? Is that... you?" I asked, another rather cliché line, but they do happen, I'm afraid.

"Yeah..." He gave a dark sort of laugh, "I've changed since you saw me, hey? Well no wonder... No food down here... No company but yourself... Things change... Didn't think I'd see the day I'd be trapped in a dungeon with you of all people, new girl."

"I'm not new any more," I said, with a slight frown. I was still feeling dizzy, and tired.

"By our standards, you're new until you've been here at least thirty years." He gave me a savage grin. He looked even worse off, now that I was getting used to the light. His voice was crackling and his body, which used to be very stout and strong-looking to say the least, was wasted away into hardly anything. He was definitely becoming part of the ship... He was against a wall, his body already becoming part of the slimy woodwork, his arm out, supporting a dimly glowing lamp – his head was nodding forwards, like he no longer possessed the strength to hold up his skull; which made me feel somewhat sad (well, when I think back, it does – at the time, I was a little out of it) that Wyvern, the proud first mate who always held his head high (literally and physically) now couldn't even hold his head normal-height (literally and physically, too.)

"Guess." I mumbled. Which really meant, 'I guess, Wyvern, my old chum,' but most of it was lost in my small mumble.

"Anyway, don't you want to know your punishment?" Wyvern asked, with a slightly sardonic smile. I nodded at him, my legs feeling stiff and tired from all that swimming, and I slumped back down to the dirty floor, the ruinations of my clothes slipping my mind for the first time ever, I think. (Not that they weren't already ruined... sigh.) "Captain Davy has ordered that you be imprisoned down here in this cage... for..."

"Let me guess, one hundred years." I said, rolling my eyes.

"No... just one." Wyvern said. I looked at him. He just looked back, there wasn't much else he could do. I got the feeling, however, that he was enjoying the aghast expression that was in the process of pasting itself over my face. One. Whole. Year. The Captain was joking, right? He must be. I mean, in _Dutchman_-terms, it was hardly any time at all. But – well – a year. Twelve months. It was a long, long time for someone as ADD as I was.

(No, I don't have ADD. Or, actually, maybe I do? No, most just call what I have a tiny attention span and a need to be entertained at all times.)

"You're joking." I breathed. Wyvern shook his head.

"Hey," He chuckled. "It could be worse. _I'm_ stuck down here for all eternity. Yup, I sure am. Sure as anything. Sure? Yes, I am..." I stared at him, and his miniature monologue. See, that was what happened when you were stuck down here for only a couple of _months_. You went bonkers.

"I can't stay down here for a year. I have to go home." I said, a frown coming onto my face, as if I were thinking hard. I thought of my hometown... my mother, frantically phoning all of my friends to see if I'd gone round theirs. Hang on... it had already been months! I thought of Bethany (I mentioned her earlier. My only sibling, she is my older sister, and most probably the source of my nickname.) cycling into town, putting up posters of me. And probably the picture they'd used would have been a really ugly one, a school photo, with me looking like a right spanner in my uniform and all.

"This is home now... oh yes it is... blimey, you can't say otherwise, not in a thousand, not at all..." Wyvern said, before blinking, doing a weird head-shaky thing, and then turning to look at me, a look on his face as if he'd just woken up from a long sleep, a cross between weary and sad mixed in. "I'm going to go mad here." He whispered. "But we can go mad together."

This was not very comforting.

----------

I'd slept for most of my time down in that cell. Seeing as hardly any light got down here, I wasn't sure at all whether it had been hours, days, even weeks if I was lucky. I just slept for as long as I possibly could, to send time flying. Wyvern was also in hibernation-mode generally, too, though occasionally he woke himself up when he started taking about 'that bastard Maccus' in his sleep rather too forcibly. One day – if it had even _been_ a day – I heard a familiar thudding. I sat up, looking towards the ceiling, Davy was walking by above us. Maybe...?

A hatch suddenly opened, and some light streamed in. I blinked, and shielded my eyes, wondering if I should hiss like a vampire too, to add to the effect. It was only a faint, dreary light, but to me it was like the sun itself was walking down the steps from above, dazzling me. But it was only Captain Davy... pah, that sentence just doesn't sound right.

"So, my runaway princess," (**NB:** though with his Scottish accent, 'princess' sounded like 'princess-ah'.) He said, smirking as he came into view. "Thought you could outrun my Kraken, did you? Thought you could run away from death forever?" I wanted to tell him that I was not, as such, running _from_ death, as running _to_ home. However, words decided to fail me at that moment. I stared dumbly at him for a moment. For some reason, the only thing that came to my mind was a song.

The song filled my heart and soul with it's haunting, beautiful rhythm, and it's lyrics so elegant and filled with feeling, and such sadness and mournfulness, my whole head filled with the lovely song, I just wanted to sing it... Psyche. As if. The song in my head, actually, was That Well-Known British Pub Song, 'Who Ate All the Pies'.

"Who ate all the pies... who ate all the pies... who ate all the, who ate all the, who ate all the pies..." I realized just too late that I'd actually started muttering the song under my breath. Davy reached my cage, and gave me an odd look.

"Going mad already... Well I guessed someone as weak-minded as you wouldn't take long to break. Logic, really." He was still smirking. God, I hated him right then. "Hate me all you like, 'Bibsy', as if I care what you think." Could he read my mind or something? He rolled his eyes. "You're talking aloud, idiot."

"Oh." I blinked. "That was totally uncalled for. Then again, what more should I expect from a dried-up, deadbeat, faggotry-practicing mrffmfff..." I had to physically force my mouth closed. What was up with my head these days?

"I can't understand half of what you say anyway," He said, frowning at me. "I don't know where you're from... haven't heard an accent like yours anywhere. But I digress." I kept my mouth closed, and just looked at him meekly. "Just here to say, I know everything that happens on board the _Dutchman_, sweetie..." He leaned forwards, dangerously. "And I'm none too amused with your little plans."

Sweetie? Erlack! Oh no, I was talking aloud again, wasn't I?

"Yes, you are." Davy suddenly pushed his crab claw through the bars, clamping it around my neck, pinning me back, his face only inches away from the metal girders. I felt the rough claw, biting in on my neck, strong enough to snap my spinal cord, easily. I wondered again if I was saying this out loud. I really hoped not. I didn't think I was. I lost focus for a second, and then managed to refocus again.

"You have the prettiest green eyes." I said.

"My eyes are _blue_."

"Oh." I took a closer look. "That's what I said." Seemingly tired of my mental-illness-issues, he shoved roughly with his crab claw, sending me flying to the back of my cage, landing with a thud on the opposite wall. I gave him a frown.

"Just giving you a little warning, missy..." He hissed at me, before vanishing through a wall. I blinked. Gads, I really _was_ going crazy.

"I think you are, too." Wyvern said, shaking his head.

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**NB:** Hooray! Writing crazy people is fun!


	17. Chap 17: Stories

**17) Stories **

I'll spare you every minor details of my year down in the cages. I'll just say it was pretty awful, and I reached new heights of bonkersness while I was down there. I don't know – just something about being stuck there on my own. Perhaps it's that I'm a peoples person – perhaps it was because I was already a little unhinged – perhaps because I couldn't be arsed to deal with reality any more while I was down there. Life was definitely not good. When someone had to come down, to take up some more stocks in something or whatever, I usually said a few words to them, but mostly my words were random and form the future. Things like 'sponge-bob-square-pants' and 'wallace and gromit'.

And, for some bizarre reason, for the whole time I was down there, the same song looped through my head, over and over and over again... _Who ate all the pies, who ate all the pies, who ate all the, who ate all the, who ate all the PIES. Who ate all the pies, who ate all the pies..._ I don't really know why. I expect Captain Davy might have got the impression I was calling him fat or something.

Hmm. Oops. Perhaps I should apologize for that.

On the other hand, we live and learn. Oh well.

----------

While I was down there, Wyvern told me... stories. That was about the main highlight of my time down in the bilges of the _Dutchman_. He told me all of the stories of Davy Jones, for the most part; and what stories they were! Hearts, chests, the sea goddess Calypso, keys, love letters, musical lockets – no wonder the same song kept on popping up frequently in his organ playing...

I found myself feeling oddly... sympathetic for Davy. Like I'd judged him before I knew him, that sort of thing. I thought he was simply born and raised a prat, but apparently he used to be a very nice person – actually, Wyvern even went as far as to describe the pre-tentacled Davy Jones as... shy.

Wyvern knew everything there was to know about Davy Jones, having been the first mate for a long, long time. Those stories captivated me, really they did, but after a while they stopped. When I asked Wyvern why, he turned his sparky eyes to me, and replied;

"Davy Jones' story does not yet have an ending..."

----------

So anyway. One crazy, long, drawn-out, torturous year later, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, down into the madhouse which I had called home for the last year. Really, I'm pretty sure I'll have nightmares of cages. I mean, this could have permanently damaged my welfare! Just the thought of being stuck in a cage makes me feel sick to the stomach. I might even have become claustrophobic, and, well, if the law had existed, I could have sued Davy for permanently damaging my brain.

Then again, the law didn't exist. But I'm sure I would have.

Anyway. The trapdoor opened, footsteps came down, and who would appear but first-mate, Maccus. With a jangle of keys, the door was whisked open. I blinked. Oh, cool... I considered shoving him head-first into a barrel and then running for the kitchen; I was so, _very_ hungry. Well, I hadn't eaten in a year, you know. But being immortal, I couldn't, er, die. So I just starved. Not very nice.

"Wait a second there, Bibsy," He said, in his gravelly voice, before I could run off, "Davy Jones told me to inform you that before you are going _anywhere_, you are to clean out this entire floor. _Pronto_." Wyvern opened his mouth, but didn't say anything, as Maccus grinned meanly and left.

"The word you are looking for, my friend, is asshole." I said, wrapping my hand tightly around the mop that Maccus had shoved into me.

----------

But anyway... freedom! Of course there was a big party to celebrate me coming back.

"Great. She's back." Ives said.

"Whoopee." Jimmylegs said, and I got the feeling that he just _may_ have been being sarcastic. But who can tell with these sea-creature types? Gads, they'd all changed.

"My little boys are all grown up!" I said, with a fake, motherly sniff, as I saw them all – Palafico was barely human now, he was covered in coral, and also had two swords that had sort of grown into hands. There were also some new recruits – but they'd already started sprouting, so I hadn't gotten to see them in their human form. But my 'generation' (so to speak) weren't the newbies any more – hooray!

"Hey there..." Palafico had said to me, almost shyly. It was like we barely knew each other any more.

"Hello, buddy-oh-pal!" I said delightedly, holding my hands together and skipping in mock-joy. Then we were face to face. I smiled at him, stupidly. I didn't know if his face had the capacity to smile any more, but it did, and he smiled too. Hooray for friends!

"Swam across any oceans recently?" He asked me.

"No, not just lately – how about you, how's the anenome-eyes thing working for you?" I replied sweetly. He just laughed.

"Did you miss me?" I asked with a smile.

"Not really, I was busy thinking about important matters, like whether algae grows in patterns and suchlike." He said.

"But Pally! We are BFFL!" I exclaimed, pretending to be hurt.

Bibsy's back, bitches!

----------

It was actually only a couple of days after that when something _interesting_ happened. I mean, you might have been wondering when the canons would show up... you were, weren't you? Well, it was then that a certain Captain Jack Sparrow came along to strike up a deal involving his soul, the sea, and the _Black Pearl_...

* * *

**NB:** Ok, I'm trying to stick to the original timeline of the movie here. This is about twelve and a half years before the movies; Jack making his deal with Davy Jones for the _Pearl_ which is the cause of his initial debt; coming right up next... reviews are love. 


	18. Chap 18: Return of the Pearl

**18) Return of the Pearl **

A lot of the crew was rather interested in the dealings involving Jack Sparrow. Not many people purposely seek out the _Dutchman_ in the hope of striking up a deal with good old Davy – not many people felt that something was worth their souls. I have to tell you though, Davy is _powerful_; he can grant almost any wish you ask of, in exchange for your soul. He can give you anything. Bring you anything. He can kill someone for you; and even make someone fall in love with you, though he wasn't too fond of that one.

Younger Jack Sparrow certainly stood out in his bright colours and suchlike; a Jack Sparrow thirteen years younger then the one you all know and love. But not really that different – his skin perhaps a little more smooth, his expression somewhat more open, his dreadlocks shorter. But apart from that, he was pretty much the same.

Now I'm very sorry to have to break this to you, ladies and gentlemen, as I know Jack Sparrow is a very loved character with a huuuge fanbase. (RIP, fourth wall...) But though he may look good on screen, honestly, meeting him in actual person was nowhere near the same experience that you all may think. First of all; the smell hits you before you can even see him, especially if the wind is going in the right (or... wrong) direction. The smell of alcohol is overpowering; it's like that with most pirates, of course, but – well. You have to admit, the _Dutchman_ is a little bit... different. He also smells of sweat quite a lot, which isn't surprising, since the last time he had a wash was probably about five years ago. You could see the layers of prehistoric grime, seriously!

I'm not one to talk. And I'm definitely _not_ insulting Jack personally. It's just the truth, people! I hadn't washed in about a year and a half either. And most members of the crew – er, well. They had dirt on them from the times that the dinosaurs roamed the earth, I swear. It's not all glitzy and jazzy, being a pirate, you know... personal hygiene becomes somewhat scarce and sacred.

We were all interested. He was directed towards Davy's cabin. We all waited for five seconds after the door had clicked shut, and then dived for who could get their ear closet to the keyhole. (We can't help being nosy. Any news, and we've pounced on it. It's the boredom!)

----------

"What is your proposal, Sparra?" Sparra? That was an odd last name. Then again, he didn't look like a native of England. He looked a bit Italian, even Jamaican. Who knows? Now shush, I'm trying to eavesdrop here...

"There is a ship. A wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous big old ship. Goes by the name the _Black Pearl_. Ring any bells?"

"The _Pearl_. Yes... I remember her." I could imagine the expression on Davy's face. Serious, but this gleam in his eye he gets when it comes to souls. And this Jack guy. Most people look a bit weary when Davy says that he remembers something that happened several centuries ago. That's just like him.

"Yes. Well my proposal is that you, my tentacled friend, raise her up from the bottom of the ocean for me. Because I've been trying to find someone to do that for me, and I think you are the only one." Hah, flattery, was it now? It didn't usually work for Davy. He usually just looked on stonily if someone was to compliment him, or he'd say, 'I know,' because he is so truly modest.

"You realize that in exchange of this, you will have to give me your soul, for one hundred years?" I could practically _hear_ the sneer in his voice. We were all waiting for Jack to stand up and say that some old brig wasn't worth his eternal soul. In which case Davy would probably kill him for wasting his time.

"What, right away?" Jack asked.

"No. You will get fourteen years in which to captain the _Pearl_, and then, you have to return here, to join my crew, and stay here for... one hundred years." Davy seemed pleased.

"Fifteen years," Jack said, bartering. Me, and quite a few other members of the crew, gathered by Davy's door, (there was a whole bunch of us. I was being crushed at the bottom of the pile. Typical.) winced. You do _not_ bargain with Davy Jones. We heard his chair scraping, the silence deepening.

"Thirteen years. And that is final," Davy said, with a mean smile. A few of us crew members went 'ooh'. "Now you go and wait outside while I write up your contract."

There was a general scramble as crew members went back to nonchalantly hanging around, you know, we all just happened to be standing besides Davy's cabin door as Jack Sparrow walked out. He looked around at us all, his expression obviously portraying what he thought of us 'fishy folk'. I didn't like being looked down upon; having not met any humans yet while in my half-dolphin form, I wasn't yet used to the odd looks that they'd give us.

"Don't stare, it's rude," I chirped. He turned towards me, looking a little shocked.

"You... you're female, aren't ya?" He asked, seeming to be incredibly surprised by the news.

"And? _So_?" I asked him, somewhat fiercely. He laughed, suddenly. "What?" I asked him, still a little annoyed. I didn't like people looking down on me, and I didn't like people asking me what my gender was. It had happened far too often.

"You just remind me or someone I know... that's all." He said with a grin, shaking his head.

"Okay," I leaned towards him walking around him in a small semi-circle, "What's wrong with being female?"

"It's bad luck." He said with a shrug.

"You think _Davy Jones_ is one for _superstition_?" I asked him, incredulously. He paused.

"Fair point." He said.

"You're not really thinking of going ahead with this deal, are you? Selling your soul to Davy Jones, for a ship? Just buy one, you wont have to save up for _that_ long, jeesh..." I folded my arms.

"The _Black Pearl_ is a very special ship," He said indifferently, his slurring of the word 'special' was absolutely spectacular. "She's worth anything, come what may."

"Are you sure?" I asked, "Because Davy Jones is a right bast-" Before I could finish, the door to Davy's cabin swung open behind me. From behind, a crab claw lifted me up as if I weighed little more then a baby, and tossed me indifferently to the side. I huffed indignantly, but I was ignored, though a few crew-members chuckled at my plight. Gosh, I was making myself ever so popular with our captain, wasn't I?

"Sign here, and the deal is done," Davy said, leaning towards Jack as if I'd never been there, "Irreversible." It was priceless to hear that in his Scottish accent. I thought Jack would at least mull it over for another second, but instead, he cheerfully grabbed a hold of the quill and signed his name with a flourish. Davy immediately rolled the parchment up, holding it in his tentacled hand. "Consider it done." He said.

"Great! So where's me ship?" Jack asked, glancing around the deck as if expecting it to pop up somewhere.

"On it's way," Davy said uninterestedly, before beginning to walk off.

"What? Hey!" Jack frowned, though his expression changed considerably when the captain began to turn around, slowly. "Er, is me ship going to be here soon?"

"You'll have to find out, wont you?" Davy said softly, before melting away into the darkness.

"That is not a big help," Jack said, but he said it very quietly. Everyone's scared of Davy. It's a rule. If you're not scared of Davy, you're obviously suicidal.

"Jack. Over there." I piped up helpfully, leaping to my feet, and checking myself over for any injuries that may have occurred as Davy threw me across the deck. Talk about hostility in the workplace! Bosses in the future would never had gotten away with pulling a stunt like that, I'm telling you. Perhaps the legal system _did_ improve after all.

Anyway. Jack turned around, and noticed what I'd been gesturing at; i.e., a mass of bubbling in the black waters. A wide smile played across his mouth as he walked over to the edge of the _Dutchman_, transfixed by the water which was now swelling and bubbling, moving about unnaturally, and then a mast slid up from under the waves; followed by midnight black sails... Wait, they were actually more of a dark grey. I guess that's what being stuck underwater can do to you. Like when you shove bright clothes in the washing machine and it dims a bit. _Anyway_.

"Beautiful," Jack said under his breath as the _Pearl_ rose gracefully from the water. There was no large splash as a fanfare to it's arrival; silently, it came upwards until it's full body was exposed, slipping out of the water easily. "Absolutely beautiful."

* * *

**NB:** Hooray! Jack's got his ship back! I don't think he's aware of the trouble it'll get him into.


	19. Chap 19: Hearty

**19) Hearty **

So yes, Jack sailed away with his lovely, lovely ship, and for some reason I watched him go for a long time, simply stepping off the _Dutchman_ into sweet freedom. Damn, damn, _damn_! I really needed to get to that cave in Weymouth so I could get back home! How hard could it _be_? But nooo, I had to get stuck on this stupid ship with it's stupid captain and it's stupid crew and stupid _one hundred years_ of service...

You'll be pleased to say that my story does have an ending, though.

But I am _definitely_ not writing every single little detail about every single little day that passed for the next thirteen years. Yeah, you were wondering when the movies were going to come into this, weren't you? Oh, don't worry, things do start getting all canon. (**NB:** But I am not an AU writer, and this will still stick rigidly to the plot of Pirates of the Caribbean. Bibsy will just be, you know, 'Davy Crew Member 32' who you never notice in the background of the movie.)

So what did I accomplish over the thirteen years? Well, I learned to sail. I learned to swordfight. I learned to shut the hell up and listen. I learned that when I forgot about the 'shutting up and listening' rule, Davy Jones would come along and bitch-slap me with his tentacles. (Well, perhaps not. Funny image though, eh?) And then I learned how to do it all over again under the influence of rum. (Bog off, legal ages are now abolished, am I right?)

I grew more accustomed to my place, know what I mean? I wasn't so flighty any more. My need to escape wasn't so unbearably strong any more. It was a bit like having my spirit crushed, but – well, it wasn't that bad. I was biding my time, right? Thing is, as I 'bided my time', (is that 'bade my time'? I don't think so) I sort of slipped into the pattern. I got friendly with the crew members. Sure, there was rough-and-tumble, teasing and even a couple of duffing up incidents (you haven't seen play-fighting until you've seen this crew... seriously! Don't they have anything better to do then jump each other?) – but all in all, we're a tight base, here on the _Dutchman_.

Gosh, aren't I making this sound like an advertisement to come and work at your local McDonalds? But anyway. Soon I was another crew member – I was still a little bit too, er, out of it for Davy's liking, which he told me many times (mostly using short, sharp words... bastard) but I was part of the crew now. I even began forgetting my past life, er, future life. Whichever it is.

But then, the whole Jack Sparrow Incident occurred, and changed _everything_. But before that...

----------

Bootstrap Bill was edgy from the moment he was signed onto the_ Dutchman_. His punishment had been pretty bad; tied to a cannon and thrown overboard, but with the curse still on him he would just drown but not die, again and again and again, for all of eternity. I mean, that's a harsh bit of punishment there, don't you think? All he did was say that perhaps their mutiny had been a bit tight on their poor old captain.

"...and now... Barbossa has the _Pearl_..." He said with a sad shake of the head.

"The _Pearl_?" I asked him, "Like, the _Black Pearl_?" Bill looked up, his watery eyes looking away from the floor where they'd been permanently pasted since his arrival. He nodded. "So the mutiny was on Captain Jack... Jeesh. I wonder if the debt's been moved onto Barbossa now then?"

"I hope so..." Bootstrap said in that faraway voice of his, "He deserves it."

"Don't worry," I said, comfortingly, "The _Dutchman_ isn't that bad! Sure you get whipped for putting a single toe out of line. And sure even your bestest friend on board may turn around and kill you because the Captain feels like it. And sure-"

"Bibsy. Not helping." Ives said.

----------

Uh-oh! Suddenly, thirteen years of madness later, something exciting has happened! And when I say madness, yes, that's what I mean. The effects of being locked down in the cage for a year never really wore off, I think. I'm sure I went mad. I craved anything fun, anything exciting, and didn't care how it happened. I'd tease the captain until he snapped and whacked me in the face. I'd line dance across the sails, not caring for the steep drop to the deck below. I was well known as... eh... the 'eccentric' one of the crew.

And then it was retrieval mission time once more; though it wasn't with something as comical as a crewmember (er, me), but something much more personal to Davy. His heart was in danger! This kid called William had come on board for a few days, and in that time he'd taken Davy's key. Now, usually, when Davy got into trouble, I'd be clapping my little (webbed) hands in glee, but it wasn't like that this time. This time, it was serious! Davy could _die_! And, well...

Despite the fact we were constantly getting each other's backs up, I did _not_ want that.

I wasn't one of the people chosen to go onto Isla de Cruces to get the heart back. With my size bajillion feet and all, I wasn't too good for running around, and my fighting skills weren't exactly elite either. I was left on board, when Palafico, Maccus, Clanker, Hadras, and all of the big-time fighters went crashing onto the island. I felt disappointed that I hadn't been chosen to go; my feet hadn't touched solid ground in years and years. It was obviously the same for the others, as they arrived at the island, they skipped around on the sand a little before taking off after the heart.

Now, Davy was in a right twitch about the whole incident. He was trying not to show it, but boy was he worried. His head kept suddenly jerking up, and staring across at the island, searching for his crew or the heart, any sign of it. I cadged a look through a telescope, but all I saw was some huge wheel going flying through the forest and crushing a lot of things.

"Don't worry, Captain Jones, it'll be okay," I said to him brightly. He turned to me with contempt easily visible on his face. He didn't even bother replying.

----------

It was okay. It was okay.

The crew had the chest. I saw them lugging it on board; I was part of the crowd gathered around it, basking in it's glory. Yeah! We'd won! We kicked ass! Davy seemed more glad, perhaps even to the point of (gasp) gratitude, though he never went as far as to actually _thank_ the crew! Asshole.

I looked down at it. In there, was Davy's heart. The key to him and his entire life, his love, his everything. Whoever had that could make Davy jump through hoops. And with Davy Jones on your side (even thought blackmail), you could pretty much rule the ocean. I smiled, muttering a congratulation to a couple of the retrieval squad. They'd done it! Um... right? Right?!

"Let me see it! I need to see it!" Davy suddenly snapped, he'd been watching the people on land intently through a telescope, and I reckon he got suspicious about the way they were simply packing up and leaving. He barged through the crowd, knocking me and another couple of crew-mates for six. I got up, skipping around to the front, and realized the key was already in the lock. The chest had already been opened... My heart started thudding then, really it did. Wherever Davy's heart was, it was probably thudding too. He twisted the key roughly, opened the box and...

No. Heart. Davy could only looked absolutely bewildered for a moment, before he threw his head back and roared his rage.

----------

How odd. A _navy_ vessel was drifting rather close. We were debating whether to blow it from the east side or the front-cannons when a string of flags went up. Koleniko twisted his head, watching it carefully through his one eye, mouthing the message that was being sent. Davy hadn't come out of his cabin since the heart thing. Probably plotting, plotting, plotting. Or even plain old sulking. He was hammering away at his organ now.

"Uh-oh..." Koleniko said softly, "The navy... the East India Trading Company... have the heart."

The organ music stopped abruptly. I could imagine Davy's expression; like, _whaaat?!_ Ohh dear.

* * *

**NB:** Uh-oh! We've done gone all canon, and next chapter it's time for Bibsy to move on from annoying Davy to annoying Beckett... 


	20. Chap 20: A Matter of Beckett

**20) A Matter of Beckett **

We all hated Beckett from the moment he put his dinky, shiny, buckle-up shoes on board our deck. _Our_ deck, not his. Striding around like he owned the place, with his nose in the air. I mean, we all used to complain about Davy keeping us on a tight leash, but _Beckett_... gads. Every time he walked past about five crew members would hold their noses, and I spent a _lot_ of time simply _staring_ at his wig, until he'd get uncomfortable and put his hand on it, wondering if something was wrong with it.

Ha ha.

"Twat," I muttered as he slammed open the captains cabin, on his way back to his own ship. Even though he was about ten metres away and I'd said it under my breath, his head turned towards me, his eyes narrowed. I gave him a jolly wave. Frowning, he went off back towards his navy vessel, muttering something to his babysitter – oops, sorry, I mean bodyguard – Mercer, who shot me a look.

Heh. Let me tell you about the day _I_ was chosen to go and get orders from him over at his ship, because I was one of the most apt swimmers of the _Dutchman_. Trust me, it is _gold_.

----------

After shooting through the ocean for a while, I dived out of the water, straight upwards, and gripped a hold of the edge of the ship, pulling myself on board. A couple of officers looked alarmed. I was amused to see them raise their guns, despite the fact that I wasn't able to die. I nodded amiably at them, and then walked off towards Beckett's office on board.

"Where do you think you're going?" One of them asked in a terrified voice. Okay, so I did look scary, but I was friendly really, honestly!

"Come to get orders from Beckett," I said, and one of them nodded, and took me towards his office. He knocked on the door, explaining to 'Sir Lord Beckett, sir' that I was here from the _Dutchman_ to receive orders. Sir. Coolly, he told me to enter.

"Right, Becky?" I said, padding into the room and waving at him.

"You will address me as Lord Beckett," He said, his voice somewhat cold. _Ok, Becky,_ I said in my head. But I just gave him a nod. I knew that cheeking him too much could drive him to do pretty harmful things to me, however, there was a certain level of cheeking you could go up to. I mean, he wasn't going to stab Davy's heart because I called him Becky, was he? Davy's much too useful for that. "Your orders for the next couple of days are substantial, so please make sure to listen carefully..."

I glanced around his room boredly as he droned on about rubbish. There was a big portrait of him in the corner! Talk about vanity! Maps and charts covered every square inch of wall. I also spied some toy soldiers. Ooh! Pretty! Did Becky like to play with her – I mean, of course, _his_ – dollies then? Halfway through a sentence, there was a rapping on the door. He looked up, obviously irritated.

"Lord Beckett, sir... Duke Henry Gallagher has arrived. He says he must speak to you immediately. He is on his way." The voice said, cautiously. Probably knowing that Beckett loathed to be interrupted. Beckett frowned.

"Make yourself scarce," He ordered me, "I do not want the Duke seeing a fish-person in my room. The arrangement with the _Flying Dutchman_ is... under wraps."

"When shall I-?" Before I could finish, there was a tapping on the door. Great! Now I had to 'make myself scarce' somewhere in Beckett's office! Shooting me an annoyed look, like it was all my fault, he wentand stuffed me under his desk. Ouch! Well, thanks for that, Becky. He stood behind his desk, his shiny shoes only inches away from me. I folded my arms in a huff. How undignified!

"Lord Beckett," I heard the door swinging open, and a deep, rhythmical voice spoke, "I have urgent matters to discuss with you..." I pretty much blanked it from there. It was a boooring conversation, and also, if Beckett didn't want the Duke knowing about his connections with the fishy folk, then he obviously wasn't going to introduce _us_ into the conversation.

Then, boredom struck.

When that happens, other things happen quickly. Crazy things. First of all, I started nudging his desk. Not majorly, but just pushing it a bit to the left. I could hear the Duke getting distracted once the desk was shuffling off and was no longer in front of Beckett. He grabbed the edge of his desk and shoved it back into place roughly.

"Please, do continue," He said, as lightly as he could manage. Halfway through a sentence, I gave him a nudge, which made him flinch a little, but he carried on talking. I was about to do it again when he brought his boot down sharply on my hand. Oww! I would have my revenge!

As the Duke talked about more garbage, I started mewling like a kitten. The Duke faltered a little, hah, getting distracted again. He looked at Beckett's desk, and then at Beckett, who gave him an expectant look. Hurriedly, the Duke continued to talk, still looking warily at Beckett's desk. The mewling had evolved into moos, honks, pig snorts and horse neighs by now. My impressions were pretty realistic. After a particularly loud whinny, the Duke stopped talking again, probably wondering how there could be some sort of barnyard inside Beckett's desk.

"Ignore the din. It must be coming from below decks." Beckett said through gritted teeth. Seeming unconvinced, the Duke carried on talking, a bit slowly. I stopped my animal noises. I'd just had an idea. An idea so disgusting, so evil, yet so simply hilarious, that I knew it was pointless to resist it.

_Don't do it, Bibsy, he'll kill you._ I'm already dead, though. _Bibsy. No._ Do it! Do it! Do it! _Don't do it! I'm serious! _Ignore her – I mean, me – just do it! You know you want to! _Nooo! Fight the urge, fight the urge!_ In the end, I just couldn't fight it any more.

Timing it carefully until the end of one of Beckett's sentences, I put my hands over my mouth and blew the biggest. Raspberry. Ever. Honestly! To the Duke, it must have sounded like Beckett had just executed a six-second bumcheek-flapper, and as the last resounding echoes of the noise died out, silence fell, thick as a blanket. I could practically hear the Duke's jaw hit the floor – like, _Did you just do what I think you did?!_ When I looked up at Beckett's face, I could see he was trying to keep it calm, but he was starting to flush; slowly, he was going pink.

Then he kicked me. Really, really hard, not caring what it looked like to the Duke.

"Ouch!" I yelped, along with a rather-more-bad-then-average word. The Duke looked down at the desk, and then up at Beckett, who was grinding his teeth.

"Excuse me a minute, please," He said, before coming down onto his knees, and glaring at me. I had to practically eat my tonsils to stop myself from bursting out laughing, and then howling until I was crying. Suddenly he grabbed my by the scruff of my neck, stood up, dragged me across the office and threw me into a wardrobe, slamming the door shut and turning the key. He turned back to the Duke, after taking a deep breath.

"These assassination attempts really do get quite troublesome, don't they?" He asked, pleasantly. The Duke nodded, uncertainly. "Carry on."

In the wardrobe, I was finding it hard to cover up my snickers as the Duke carried on, almost cautiously. Beckett would risk the Duke seeing who – or more like, _what_ I was, to simply get rid of me from under his desk? Honestly! I don't _think_ the Duke saw me, though. Beckett bundled me into his wardrobe pretty quickly. Wait. What is a wardrobe doing in his office? Ohmigod! I looked around at the clothes. Weirddd.

Anyway. Boredom taking control of me, I did what anyone my age would do – in deep, gauging letters, I inscribed on the back of the wardrobe door – _BIBSY WOZ ERE 17th CENTURY ISH_ – smiling at the thought of the wardrobe in the future, in _my _times, being put up for auction as an antique, and someone finding that. Hah. That should bring the price down a couple of thousand.

I picked up a piece of clothing, looking at it closely in the dark, wondering what it was. This place was jam-packed with waistcoats, breeches and whatnot, and at the bottom, there were some more shiny, buckle-up shoes. I was about to pick one of those up too, when the wardrobe door was suddenly wrenched open. I hadn't noticed the murmur of conversation stopping. Beckett looked down on me, looking angrier then I've ever seen him. Uh oh... forget pink, Beckett's complexion had wandered into the crimson side of things.

"You – you – what you did out there was _vulgar_." He finally managed, "You will not get away with it, because I assure you that your captain will hear of this!" Sure, Davy would be _so_ upset at hearing I made Beckett look stupid. He looked at the wardrobe door, now with my added graffiti on it, and scowled at me. "And now I find you in here pawing through my undergarments."

"Underg-? Eugh!" I dropped the piece of clothing in my hand like it was red hot. Ugh, ugh, ugharoonies!

"_Get back to your ship_," He said, forcibly. The colour in his cheeks was fading now, but he still seemed angry. Wow! I got some actual _emotion_ out of Beckett!

----------

I guess you can tell I didn't like Beckett that much.

* * *

**NB:** Heh. This chapter didn't move the plot on an awful lot. It was just a funny little idea I had, and then had to add in. Ahh, more adventures with Bibsy and crew would have been fun, but this story could jave dragged an awful long time. Perhaps I'll make another fic about some of the things that happened on the _Dutchman_ in Bibsy's time...? Anyway. Hopefully, next chapter will develop things a bit more... 


	21. Chap 21: Building Up

**21) Building up **

"What did you do?" Davy asked, looking up at me from the note that Beckett had told me to bring along. Yes, a _note_! What did he think I was, _five_?! Of course, I'd seen it as my basic human (uh, fish) rights to read the note, just to see what Beckett had to say about me. He was actually rather rude about me, can you believe it?

_Jones, this crewmember of yours is a disgrace. I suggest you dish out the punishment generously. If I ever see such slacking on board the Dutchman again, there will be more then ample punishment for the entire crew. Don't forget it._

And then it had his signature and whatever. Davy seemed amused as he finished reading it, and his icy eyes were fixed on me. I looked as innocent as I could, but in the end I had to explain. I just told him that, well, I'd had to hide, and then someone had come in, and then I made a sound that made it sound like Beckett had done a particularly bad bodily function, and also the whole barnyard animals in the desk drama. Yeees... At least he seemed amused.

At least, for _once_, it was us two against someone else, instead of, you know, us two against each other. He crumpled the note up in his crab claw.

"Next time you see Beckett, tell him I punished you _severely_." He said, throwing the note into a corner. Well, no wonder the _Dutchman_ was always in such a mess, even the captain was littering all over it. I nodded at him with a smile. He wasn't going to punish me. Yesss! "What were the orders?" He asked.

"Can't remember," I said with a shrug. "He does tend to go on."

"Oh well." Davy smirked. "Never _mind_."

----------

Mercer called Davy a... 'loose cannon'. I would go much further then that. If we are sticking to the loose cannon description, then let's say that Davy is an incredibly loose, deadly, violent, _evil_ cannon that fires nuclear atom bombs into heavily populated areas containing hospitals, schools and homes for the elderly at teatime. For fun. I mean, they couldn't have expected him to follow every single little detail, could they? And Davy knew that he could push them a little bit... if the destroyed the heart, then there was no Davy to control, and with no Davy to control, well; it'd take them a couple of centuries to learn how to rule the sea.

Beckett hated me from that day on. He didn't just dislike me, or look down on me – he _loathed_ me with a passion. He picked on me all the time. He made sarky remarks about me. He jeered at me constantly. He was trying to make my life into absolute hell. He didn't really get to me that much; after serving on the _Dutchman_ for near enough fourteen years, you've been through enough mockery as it is, people!

Like some sort of annoying little munchkin-man, he popped up everywhere I went, sticking his nose into whatever I was doing, and then telling me I was doing it wrong, getting _far_ too much pleasure out of doing so for my liking. Finally, I snapped – what he wanted, I guess.

"Listen, Becky-boy, can you just push off for a bit, eh?" I asked him, calmly as I could. "You are really bugging me now, stalking me around like some sort of... stalker. I am perfectly capable of tying a knot without you looking over my shoulder. It would be pretty hard _not_ to be, seeing as I have been at sea for fourteen years now. So please. Get stuffed."

"Are you... insulting me?" He asked, his light tone giving away to a more dangerous undercurrent.

"Why... yes. Yes, I was." I replied. A few crewmates turned to watch. They were probably thinking about how crazy, yet funny to watch I was. They already knew about my current Beckett-hating-me situation. I'd relished in telling them the story of that disastrous office visit. Making people laugh makes me feel so very happy. They cocked their heads.

"I suggest you think twice before doing it again," Beckett said to me, softly. And there was something really scary about his voice, really dangerous, that made my bravado slip away completely. He was little, about the same size as _me_, for christs sake, but he always looked around loftily, as if he was the tallest person there. He made other people feel smaller. I wondered if he was crazy. With his long words and clipped tones, he's the last sort of person you'd accuse of insanity. But I could see his eyes shining with greed at any opportunity that arose. His immensely slappable sneer.

Cutler Beckett, _I_ think, was slightly touched in the head. And the way he said that... I'd _never_ admit this to anyone, but it really scared me. I swallowed it though.

"I'm sure I will," I said lightly, turning around to continue with the ropes. A second later, I heard his footsteps tapping away across the deck, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

----------

Davy was on land! For the first time in... well, years and years and _years_. Could be centuries. I don't really know how old he is. I don't want to be there for years as he recites it to the nearest billionth, do I? Nah, I'm only joking. Most of the crew were gathered around at the edges of the _Dutchman_, which was anchored down, our eyes fixed firmly on the small spit of land where this meeting was taking place. William Turner, Cutler Beckett, and our Davy Jones (whoop whoop!) on one side, with Jack Sparrow, Hector Barbossa, and Elizabeth Swann on the other. We all strained our eyes watching.

Jack Sparrow swapped places with William. Beckett stepped to the right, leaving Jack to go next to Davy Jones, who jeered at him. Beckett smirked too, sensing how uncomfortable Jack was next to the guy who pretty much wanted to skin him alive and then hire him into his crew for eternal torture. Of course, from here, we couldn't hear what they were discussing. But it was easy enough to work out.

Davy was furious, as well as miserable, having to follow Beckett's orders to a tee. Beckett could throw a stick into the ocean, and then tell him to leap out, fetch it in his mouth like a dog and then bring it back to him, and though Davy would be absolutely livid he'd do it without hesitation. His heart was _everything _to him, it didn't matter how much disdain he forced onto his face when anyone mentioned it, and it didn't matter how much he talked back to Beckett.

Having worked on board Davy's ship for a long, long time, I already knew the tune of his locket off by heart; it resounded through the ship often, Davy playing on his organ. There's a lot of... anguish behind it. But I wasn't really deep enough to understand all of it back then. I just knew that Davy was... sad. And that was what made hating him so compelling. Because I couldn't.

He's a very hard bad-guy figure to hate, because despite being a meany, he was a _funny_ meany, and not only that, he was just... well, you didn't need to be a psychiatrist to see that he was not a happy person. I watched him carefully on the island they were all discussing things on... there he was, standing in his little bucket, head cocked, an arrogant smirk clearly visible from here, one eyebrow raised... though he does not, to be truly honest, really _have_ eyebrows.

"Nearly time for the final battle," Palafico said. He sounded a bit worried. "Us against the pirates."

"There's so bloody many navy ships... it's hardly likely we're going to lose, is it?" I asked, cocking my head.

"But Bibsy, we don't _want_ to wipe out the pirates. _We're_ pirates. _Davy_ is a pirate. This isn't our side," I thought about this for a moment. Damn him, he was right. I'd never really thought of myself as a pirate, but I didn't know how it worked back here in the 17th century. But we _were_ pirates. We were working for the wrong side. And now the other side was about to get creamed.

"Damn," I muttered. The little meeting had broken up; they were returning. Nearly time for the final battle...

----------

Beckett gave his smug little smile as he came on board, with the chest in his arms, and I could hear the heart thudding inside. I was interested despite myself. I watched him walk off through a side door, and curiously, I popped my head around the door. He'd put the chest in between two cannons, each with a man behind them! I could see Davy back in the shadows of the room, a deep frown on his face, watching the chest as if both revolted and hypnotized by it.

"You are the ship that we will be sending out to go against the _Pearl_, Jones," Beckett said, examining his nails, boredom easily fathomable on his face, "Don't lose."

"The _Dutchman_ could bring any ship down," Davy said, quietly, but a threatening tone wriggled into his voice, "But placing the heart on board is a stupid idea. Someone could find it and stab it, end the battle immediately."

"Your crew will not continue to fight for us when the captain goes down?" Beckett asked, looking up suddenly.

"Of course not, they owe nothing to you," Davy sneered at Beckett's naïveté, "And they will be loyal to their new captain the second he is pledged in. 'Tis the rules."

"Right..." Beckett seemed to consider it, for a moment, then looked up with a smirk, "The heart stays here. I doubt highly that a rabble of filthy pirates could defeat you, especially with our men on board too."

"Right you are..." Davy murmured, "But your men had better keep a _close_ eye on my heart..." Incidentally, something that they completely failed to do.

* * *

**NB:** Building up to what, you may ask? The final battle, of course... sniff... well, we've all seen the movie and knows what happens, right? But I wonder what Bibsy's thoughts are on the matter. 


	22. Chap 22: The Big Battle

**22) The Big Battle **

I had pre-battle nerves as our ship coursed forwards through the ocean, towards the _Pearl_, which was coming towards us. I thought it was pretty skank that the _Black Pearl_ would be the ship attacking us, seeing as we'd been the ones who'd saved it from the dark depths. Every time we were about to go into battle, I got the jitters. I know it was stupid, and pointless, seeing as I certainly wasn't about to die. But I just got nervy, for some reason, at the thought of running into battle.

"This is gonna be the battle of the century," Jimmylegs cocked his head.

"How many crewmembers will go down, do y'reckon?" Asked Jelly. He gained his imaginative name because he became part-jellyfish.

"Huh... hard to say. About ten?" Jimmylegs said. A couple of crewmembers agreed.

"Go down? But... I thought we couldn't die." I said, looking around at them. There were about twenty-seven of us in the crew... ten was a rather big chunk of that. And guess who was probably the weakest fighter of them _all_. Yes, me.

"Once you sink to the bottom without a trace, it's pretty hard to get back up, and you – uh oh..." Broondjongen, a rather scary-looking clam-man, cut off, his eyes fixed ahead. We all turned around. Ohhh _dear_. We were heading right towards one heck of a massive maelstrom. Mercer, who Beckett had left on board to oversee things, obviously had some doubts, but Davy just jeered at him and then continued going straight on down into the massive pit in the sea. _Scared to get wet?_

When it came to battling, we were all incredibly organized. There wasn't time for messing around, making jokes and tripping each other up as usual. We all went pretty much in single file, picking up our weapons from the hold beneath decks. Clanker had some pretty damaging metal balls on chains which he could knock people out with; but most people, me included, used massive, rusting broadswords. Mine was much smaller and lighter then most of theirs – I just couldn't carry one that was as large as theirs. I had fondly named mine Georgie.

"Ready for the final frontier, Georgie?" I asked him now. Georgie remained silent and compliant. I swung him experimentally, then made my way up to the top decks. Palafico had two swords held in his hands; he was an expert with them. One of the best fighters of the crew, so it was a good thing he was my friend really. I smiled at him now, though worry was still nagging at my stomach, making it churn.

"Nervous again?" He asked me, cocking his head. He didn't see any _point_ in being nervous. He thought it was pretty useless. He charged into battle practically _smiling_.

"N-no..." I twisted Georgie in my hands, "Well, maybe a bit. I have a bad feeling about this battle."

"You always say that," He said, rolling his eyes. But I really did, this time. Davy was in danger; his heart was going into the heat of battle! This time, he was fighting with us. On our usual raids, he didn't bother, but now he had a long, shining sword, held in his tentacled hand, the elongated finger wrapping around it tightly, making it pretty hard to get off of him.

The _Dutchman_ soared downwards into the maelstrom, crashing through the churning water, clouds beginning to gather around us, wind cutting through like knives, whistling loudly. Large sprays of water shot from below, and it began to rain, large, splattering drops of water falling fast. The sea swirled around like it was vanishing down a plughole; and down the other side, the _Pearl_ was coming, shooting down the other side of the maelstrom, and it began to circle.

Jack was a prisoner on our ship at the moment. Suddenly, I thought of him. The _Pearl_ would want him back. And he would want the heart. This was not a good thing. Right now, it was time to operate the cannons. I was helping on one with a crew-member called Ratlin. I wasn't too good with cannons, and now my nervousness was making me screw up a lot. The cannons felt heavy and slippery in my hands, making me nearly drop them as we loaded up. I looked out of the cannon hole, watching the ship on the other side of the maelstrom. We were nearly side on now. Nearly... nearly...

_Fire!_ Davy's voice carried over the entire ship, and was joined by voices of many crew members, and all of us open-fired from the left side of the ship, sending cannons whizzing over the gaping hole of the maelstrom and embedding them into the _Pearl_. They also fired cannons – like some gruesome ballet, they crossed each other on their way to their targets – and splintered parts of the ship, sometimes bringing entire sections of the banister around the top away.

The whole battle was a mess. Like spiders being washed away down the plughole in the mother of all baths, the ships spun around each other, getting closer and closer, until with a crash the hit each other. Grapnels shot from each side, and crew members swapped places to fight. I held Georgie ready, telling him that he'd better not let me down, when I noticed Davy and Mercer standing incredibly close to each other. My mind filled in the gaps for a moment, when suddenly, Mercer dropped down, dead. I was incredibly glad that they hadn't been doing, uh, what I'd thought.

Palafico, Clanker, the Twins, they were some of the vicious fighters that immediately charged onto the _Pearl_, head-on into battle. Red-coated navy officers also charged onto the _Pearl_, though most of them seemed to die within the first few minutes. Poor sods... I brought Georgie up with a clash as a toothy crewmember of the _Pearl_ suddenly came flying over the banister, his sword pointed at my throat. My nerves were pretty bad, but it was then that I started to feel a little bit _annoyed_.

Fighting is an odd thing. You get all nervous beforehand, but when you're in there, it's not as bad as you thought if would be. But this time, for some reason, once the general edginess has died down, I got really quite pissed off. It just made me think... _How dare they attack us? How dare Beckett uses us like this? How dare he just sends us off into battle, not caring about killing off my friends, the closest thing to _family_ that I have at the moment? Well, screw them all! Screw Beckett for using us, Davy for being used, Jack for not paying his debt and saving all of this trouble in the first place... _

_Screw. Them. All._

And once I was in that frame of mind, it was much easier to fight. It was like I'd found the fighter inside me, you know? I mean, it sounds kind of cheesy, but it's true. When I watch the crewmembers fighting, they get this expression on their face. Deadly serious, their full concentration on whoever they were in the process of killing, with a shade of anger too. I think that was the expression that was pasted across my face right then.

I plunged my sword into him, sending him falling to the decks with a thud, and immediately turned to another man, who had just nearly lopped my arm off, my sword whistling past his head and just clipping his shoulder, he winced, and then a cannon hit right next to us; splinters of the _Dutchman_ flew around us all, almost in slow motion, falling back down to the deck like dust. Before he had a chance to recover, I killed him too. I'd never been much of a killer, but now I was. I wasn't really thinking. It was like some sort of force was fuelling me.

This was Serious Bibsy. And she did _not_ resurface often.

The rain plastered my hair to me, with the seaweed entwined in it too, making me look like a ginger version of that girl from the Ring, my face mostly covered in my own hair. Even Georgie seemed to have a new edge on him. I looked around, and realized... I looked _scary_. Most of the crew looked scary, but it wasn't a look I thought I could pull off. But I _could_. I was right then. I looked freaking scary.

I noticed Davy and Jack up in the sails, and couldn't take my eyes off of them for a minute, teetering dangerously close to the edge. Davy fought madly; his sword seemed to fly through the air, spotting gaps in the defence before they even appeared. I noticed something else, too. _Jack had the chest_. Those idiot navy-men had failed; Davy's heart was now in the wrong hands. Wrapping my hands around a grapnel, I flew through the air with nothing but a rope between me and the dark, deep hole into oblivion. On my way across, I saw a short little guy shooting at Angler.

It was like slow-motion... I watched Angler lose his grip on the grapnel, and then he fell back down into the maelstrom, to his doom. The frothy water swallowed him immediately. My heart pounded harder. I wanted to kill something then. I didn't want my crew to die. All regards to personal safety were out of the window now; I clambered onto the _Pearl_, and fought like a crazy woman.

Mid-battle, this couple got married to each other. This beardy guy – Barbossa – with a feather in his cap married them. In the middle of the marriage, a crewmember called Urchin was fighting with Barbossa, who was having a bit of a hard time conducting it as he battled. Just after he managed to finally marry them, Barbossa turned, and suddenly Urchin was no more, he vanished down into the Maelstrom too. _Two in that amount of minutes_. I leapt onto Barbossa like a wildcat.

"That was Urchin, you bastard!" I shouted at him, our swords scraping against each other with a screech. His eyebrows raised, he seemed almost amused by my plight, which made my blood boil even more. Fury was welling up inside me. I think I just lost it; everything seemed to fade into red, with white spots obscuring bits of my vision, though at the same time I could see. I'd never suffered death of a friend before; it doesn't happen too often. But now, lots of us were being murdered.

I noticed the newlyweds going towards the _Dutchman_ – towards Davy. I was distracted again as I went into a fight with another crew member of the _Black Pearl_. I nearly tripped over the dead body of a redcoat. They hadn't lasted long; me and the rest of the crew mowed them down as much as any other man. As soon as Davy realized that the heart was no longer in possession of Beckett, mutiny was in the air, starting with the murder of Mercer.

Oglivey, another crewmember, got his stomach split. It was the second time this year; Will had also plunged his sword into his stomach before. Oglivey continued to fight, though he was wounded and had a slight limp. Another man suddenly lopped of his arm with the sword in it. Oglivey staggered to the left, leaning heavily on a banister, his face turning towards his attacker. Then a friend of his, Morey, came out of nowhere; there was a struggle, and suddenly Morey was flipped overboard. I wanted to go to aid, I dashed to the edge of the _Pearl_, my hands slippery on the wooden banister, as the ship lurched to the left, nearly sending me falling down into the black pit below me too.

I found myself face-to-face with Barbossa again, our swords whining as the pressure became almost too much to bear. And then...

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain through me. It burned; and at the same time it was freezing cold. It was like someone was squeezing my insides, and ravaging pain blossomed in my mind. I blinked the stars from my eyes, Georgie nearly slipping from my hand in shock.

* * *

**NB:** Bibsy's gone Serious. And we are drawing ever closer to the end... 


	23. Chap 23: Life and Death

**23) Life and Death **

It was like a little thing inside of me suddenly died, something I'd never realized was there. I felt cold inside. All of us felt it; all of us in the _Dutchman _crew. Immediately, all of us looked towards the _Flying Dutchman_, though we already knew what had happened. We could just feel it. We saw Davy, his back to us, standing rigid. Suddenly he staggered, turning, trying to hold onto the side of the _Dutchman_ as if he was trying to grip to the last strands of life, slipping through his fingers. I could see his face now, and he said something; I didn't hear it, but I could tell what it was, easily.

_Calypso_. Oh, Davy... Our great captain finally toppled down, down – into the black mouth of the maelstrom.

----------

I felt like I'd been stabbed. During the fight, I'd been hit a few times, but I'd been too blind with battle fever to even realize it. But now I felt physically hurt. I noticed Palafico down on the deck below, his eyes wide, staring across at the _Dutchman_ too. Barbossa took this opportunity to ram his sword at me, sending me spinning across the deck, feeling sick with pain, my numb fingers gripping onto the edge of the _Pearl_, stars spinning around me. Georgie tipped away, down into the ocean. Something else took control of me then... it took control of all of us.

Like zombies we grabbed a hold of our grapnels, ignoring the crewmembers of the _Pearl_ still trying to attack us, and we shot back towards the _Dutchman_. My heart felt like it was being crushed; it felt freezing cold, and almost not there, and it felt like it was being _squeezed_, oh so tightly... I couldn't see through this fog in my head, my thoughts were coming slowly. All I knew was that we couldn't exist – we couldn't _be_ without a captain.

The entire crew found themselves on the _Dutchman_ – the ones that were still alive, anyway. I'd noticed Jack Sparrow knocking Clanker with a gun, sending him down into the maelstrom, his eyes closed, his expression completely blank. My good friend Clanker. My heart gave another judder. No! We needed a captain. We needed the heart of a captain. Otherwise, this terrible pain would get worse... The crew were closing in around the fallen man, ready to cut out his heart. His wife was screaming, crying, trying to get closer to him, anything to save him; but Jack led her away, gently as he could.

Everything went misty for a moment. And then we were all engulfed in water.

----------

I closed my eyes, until suddenly the pain in my chest eased. I looked up. Our new captain was... no other then that annoying little shit, William Turner. His father was sitting beside him. And his newly carved-out heart was in his hands. I sat up, and crawled forwards, my eyes fixed on something I could see on the deck. I reached out, and my hands closed around Davy's heart. It was still now. Still and cold. The red-black blood soaked into my wet sleeves, and into the whorls on my palm and fingers. I looked at it, and then shoved it roughly into my pocket.

Sometimes, I wonder if I had even been a little bit in love with Davy Jones. I... don't think so. I wasn't sure. I certainly did admire him a lot more then I'd given off. I'd never really gotten to say to him though, that he was, you know... a good captain, and a good pirate, and I'd never seen anyone sail like he could, fight like he could, navigate like he could. I wasn't sure if anyone had ever told him that, even though it was true. I looked up, my face swathed in my own hair, feeling tears beginning to well up. I fought them.

There was nothing more unsatisfying and draining then knowing there was someone who you'd thought was a brilliant person really, but then before you could tell them, they were gone.

----------

The battle was not yet over. But it went past like a dream. Will's eyes suddenly opened, he took a deep, juddering breath, and sat up, his hand over the place his heart used to be. And then... the change happened. It was sort of sudden. For a moment, a pang of pain shot through me, making me sit rigidly on the deck, my hand on my chest. Then suddenly... the scales gave way to smooth skin, the seaweed simply fell from my hair, and my feet slipped back down into normal size.

My sharp teeth shrank back and changed shape in my mouth, my gills sealed up, the second layer in my eyes suddenly rolled up and vanished. I shrank a little; I'd been growing taller, but now I was back to the way I'd started. I looked around at the other crewmembers, most of whom I barely recognized. I recognized Palafico, though, and I smiled at him. We were all covered in a sort of layer of slime (it was really gross,) but it was glorious to be human again. Something I never thought I'd feel. I felt happy; and at the same time, I felt miserable.

"That's goodbye to old Captain Davy then, huh?" I said, my eyes sliding to the floor.

"Chin up, Bibsy..." Palafico cocked his head, and I smiled at him. He had his big, dark eyes back – exactly how I remembered them. I turned, and saw the other crewmembers. They looked a cross between amazed, sad, and lost. We all looked towards Will, then. He looked around at us all; it was our duty now, to follow him.

"Time to go and finish off Beckett, don't you think?" He said. I'd never liked him, but for once, he said something I could agree with. There was a general roar of approval from the crew, though it was softer then usual. We were all still feeling the loss of Davy. On board a ship like the _Flying Dutchman_, you all become sort of connected. I don't know how it works. But it did... And I felt like a Halloween pumpkin. Everything solid inside me scooped out, and then left to rot on a doorstep for a few days.

And then chucked onto the compost heap. If, that is, my particular family was of a nature-friendly disposition. If they weren't, then they probably would have just binned me.

----------

Beckett's great ship fell to pieces under the dual slaughter of the _Pearl_ and the _Dutchman_. Already, we were working for Will, and I didn't like it. It felt like we were being, what... _unfaithful_ to Davy. This was the man who had killed him, remember? Anyway... I don't know why Beckett didn't give the order to fire; perhaps he'd been in love with Mercer and wanted to join him in a watery grave. Maybe he had something stuck in his throat at the exact wrong time. Who knows?

But soon, they were defeated. And it was decision time.

"Right, so as a rule, none of you owe me your souls. All debts are cleared, once the captain changes," Will said. There was a sort of group-meeting going on here. The entire crew were sitting on various parts of the deck. The new _Dutchman_ was so... shiny. And new. But it still smelled the same; powdery sawdust and salt and sea. "But..."

Okay, here came the big but.

"You can stay with me. Help me to guide the souls who have been lost at sea, in the land of the dead. Davy's original duty. You'll still have your friends, your job, because face it, there isn't really a place for you to return to, is there?" He looked around at us all. I scowled at him, though the other members of the crew were listening intently. "You can stay on the _Dutchman_, if you get fed up after ten years you can leave, but why not give it a try?"

At this point, he noticed me. My scowl had faded into a sort of... confused expression, I guess. I wasn't sure. He tipped his head at me.

"Are you staying?" He asked. I bit my lip. Should I stay or should I go? There was this instinct in me, driving me hard, to simply get home. Back to dull normality. But at the same time, this life of adventure with the people I had grown to love – brilliant, right? I was so confused...

* * *

**NB:** Decision time. Only three chapters and the Epilogue to go before the end of the line now. Hmm, ahh. Also, in _love_ with _Davy_? Hmm, I wasn't sure whether to write that in or not. Davy certainly didn't give a crap about her, lovewise. Don't worry though, this story isn't completely devoid of romance, especially at the end. But I would have thought you could guess...? I don't know if I've made it obvious or not. But oh well. Stay tuned in... heh... 


	24. Chap 24: The Search for Weymouth

**24) The Search for Weymouth **

"Are you kidding?!" I finally answered. "I am _so_ out of here." Will raised an eyebrow at me, looking slightly exasperated. A couple of people laughed. Wow, they're _people_ now. "Sorry, I can't stay here. I've spent the last fourteen years trying to get the hell out. I have to go to Weymouth, find my way back home. Sorry."

"Your call," Will said with a shrug. _All_ of the others were staying. Apparently, it wasn't _that_ bad, guiding souls. Will went off to enjoy his last day with his wife. Yeah, we all knew what quality time _they'd_ be spending together.

"So you're leaving then?" Asked a voice from behind me. It was nearing the end of the day. Soon, the sun would set, and it'd be time for me to go. Say goodbye forever. I turned around to face Palafico.

"Yeah. This time, for _real_." I chewed on a hangnail, feeling a bit sad, a bit happy, I don't know. I was all mixed up. "End of the line, buddy oh pal. But why are you _staying_?"

"There's nowhere else to go..." He shrugged, "I could go off to land, try to make myself a living, but... Well, you know nothing's the same as working on the _Dutchman_, huh?" We both grinned, "But it wont be the same without you, Bibs."

"I can't stay here," I said, sighing, "I've got to go home now."

"Will you be here, though?" Palafico cocked his head at me, "Will you be here in ten years time, when we come back?" His big eyes seemed to look right through me.

"Not if I get home," I said, thinking of that cave in Weymouth. Thinking of being zapped to the future. Thinking of trying to explain to everyone where I had been, what had happened. They'd think I'd cracked. Throw me into a mental institution. It seemed so very far away now, my old life. I could barely remember it. My mother and Bethany, and all of that stuff.

My old life, as I remember it, was very tame. And... dull. But I simply _had_ to get back there. It was where I belonged, right? Right? Yes, right.

"I think I really will miss you, Bibsy," Palafico said, looking out towards the horizon. The sun was beginning to turn red, the bottom of it coming into contact with the ocean now. The goodbyes are something I do not want to go into terrible detail about; I was upset to see them go, what can I say? I even felt my eyes pooling a little bit, though I blinked it back. I wasn't sure if I was going overboard when I gave them all a hug, though.

And then... there was nothing more to do. I touched Palafico's arm for the last time, and then stepped off of their boat, onto the _Pearl_ (apparently they could transport me back to land). I turned around, watching the _Dutchman_ begin to sail away, over the horizon. The last rays of sunlight were dying now, dipping away under the waves. Only a few seconds now. I held tightly onto the side of the _Black Pearl_, realizing it was the same place I'd been standing as Davy died. I felt his heart in my pocket.

And I felt overwhelmed with sadness as the _Flying Dutchman_ vanished in a bright, green flash.

----------

The journey back to land was not a comfortable one for me. Barbossa leered at me, knowing that despite all of the fight I'd put into the battle, our side had lost. I didn't really think he deserved to look down on me like that – it wasn't _him_ and _his_ fighting skill that had saved the _Pearl_, it was the fact that Will stabbed Davy's heart. So _yeah_.

Once I'd been dropped off on land, I looked down, surprised at how... I don't know... steady it felt. I'd been on a ship for _fourteen years_, remember? The ground felt so solid, even unnatural. It felt wrong, being on land again. I felt grounded – which, in essence, I was. I looked out across Tortuga. Jack had swaggered off to a pub, Gibbs was settling himself down, and most of the crew had scattered. I wondered what to do next. I had to get from here to Weymouth, which was in England.

I looked down at my oversized mans shirt, my wrecked jeans, and massive boots. I looked at my hands, filthy, stained with dirt, ash and blood. I had various cuts all over me from the battle; most of them had closed up. I also had a certain organ in my pocket. Apart from that, I had... nothing. _At all_. And I was getting hungry, and I was no longer immortal. I was beginning to realize how much easier it would have been to stay on the _Dutchman_.

But no going back now. I'll give you a condensed version of my long, looong trip to England.

First I found work in a bar in Tortuga. It wasn't always easy – those drunk guys would hit anything, and wenches pick fights over the tiniest things. (Jeesh! All I did was say that her hair looked like a dead cat! I mean, how was I meant to know that was thought of as offensive?!) Of course, my need to permanently have fun often got me into trouble. But all in all, life was good. I earned myself money, slowly but surely. Bought myself some clothes that fit in with the times more. I lived above the inn I worked in, which was called the _Magic Muffin_ (no comment).

Everything that I owned, I could put in one drawer of the cabinet in there. Here's a small list; my ripped up, green shirt from the future, Davy's heart, my wrecked mp3 player, a small dagger (Michael), a piece of platted seaweed that had been in my hair, and a pretty stone, oversized mans shirt, jeans. But I bought myself some better clothes the second I had the chance; a wrap skirt, which was easy enough to move in, a belt-up top and a wide-brimmed hat.

I gathered together the right amount of money for a fee back to England. And then I thought... I'd probably need it more in England then I do here. To travel _to_ Weymouth. And anyway, I hadn't had an adventure in a while. So I decided that being a stowaway seemed an excellent idea. So one night, I pattered out into the dock, everything I owned in a smallish sack, and found a ship called the _Neptune's Strumpet_, that secret sources had told me was heading towards England.

(The things little kids know!)

I made myself comfortable below decks, and kept hidden for quite a while. Eventually, though, I was discovered. The captain, Joseph Blanchard, being an honourable merchant sailor, obviously wasn't going to throw me overboard for the sharks to eat or anything, so after some pleading on my part, agreed that I could come along on the journey for free, if I were to sail for him, which I convinced him I could.

Of course, these being annoyingly sexist times, I had to prove it to them that I knew what I was doing, and even when I did, I was generally looked down on. I just made it up to them with, you know, a few pranks. Soon we set port in Sterling Bay. I asked how long it was to Weymouth... I was answered that it would take a few days by foot.

_Well, stuff that,_ I thought, and jumped on the back of a cart full of pumpkins, potatoes, sacks of flour, and the like. As soon as I was discovered, I'd just get off and leap onto another one. I always had to make sure we kept on going in the right direction though; if one turned off the wrong way, I'd have to get off, _again_, to find one that was going the right way. Sometimes, I'd end up walking for a while. My money started drying out, being used on food, lodgings and so on. And all the time I was missing life on the _Dutchman_ with a vengeance. I don't know why I missed them so much. But I did.

It was with a hammering heart that I finally arrived at Weymouth. My hometown was unbelievable in the past – much smaller, the layout a tiny bit different, but similar all the same. I could find my way down to the beach easy enough... well, sort of. I got to the top of the cliff, and looked downwards, paling as I recognized the place that I'd drowned, years ago.

There was a wonky, wooden sign sticking from a tuft of grass, on which was written, 'Green Pool Point'. I could not remember this area ever being called Green Pool Point in the future. But things change, don't they? I looked down the cliff-face, seeing no way down. But down on the beach... there were three men! And not only that, but they were navy-men too; I could tell by their red uniforms. I walked around the cliff, until I came to a rocky path, cut downwards, steep, rocky, and dangerous.

I started making my way down, with a sense of foreboding.

* * *

**NB:** Yup. Bibsy made her decision... the _wrong_ one, incidentally. What will be waiting for her down in the cave? You'll just have to wait and see... By the way, if you think Bibsy-being-transported-back-to-her-time is an incredibly unfulfilling end to the story, then you are right, and you will be pleasantly surprised... Two chapters to go before the ending!


	25. Chap 25: Grover Hunter

**25) Grover Hunter **

As I reached the beach, the three navy privates turned towards me, warily, but upon seeing nothing but a lady, they went back to their conversation. I picked my away across the beach, sand crunching underneath my boots, making me walk somewhat lopsidedly. Now where was that cave? I closed my eyes, envisioning it. Over the rocks. Down a slope. Around a corner. And then... there it had been, gaping before me, I'd been surprised at how I could have never seen it before.

I clambered over the rocks, and I heard one of the men on the beach call out, asking where I was going, but I ignored him, sliding down the rocks and into the cave, looking around myself for a moment, before stepping forwards. The damp smell coursed into my brain; bringing back memories of the confused, messed-up night, so long ago now, and how I'd died. I wandered deeper in, my eyes picking out bits of rock and suchlike, and with a pang I realized; there, at the end. That slab of rock I'd been sitting on.

Rushing up to it, I put my hands on it, feeling the coolness beneath my hands. I stood still for a moment. I sat on it. Lay on it. Walked around it. Disappointment and frustration suddenly filled me up. What had I been expecting? To arrive here, and suddenly, pop – I'm back where I should have been? I sighed... it had been a stupid notion. One I'd been clinging to. There was no hope; this was my place now.

I should have just stayed on the _Dutchman_.

"Hello? Excuse me, miss?" I spun around at the voice, and found a man there, watching me. One of the navy guys. I walked towards the mouth of the cave, faking a smile, though I wanted to cry.

"Good evening," I said, trying to keep my voice from wobbling.

"Can I help you?" He asked, looking around the cave, "This place isn't... I mean, it's not a good place." His eyes fixed on me, blue and unblinking.

"What do you mean?" I asked, intrigued.

"There're rumours of black magic, here..." He shrugged, "A while ago, a man called Grover Hunter, a friend of one of the officers out there. He was stuck down here, in a terrible storm, too. He vanished. He was never seen again..."

"Fourteen years ago, right?" I asked, softly. I could see it now.

"Ye-es..." He sounded uncertain, "Was he a friend of yours?" I shook my head. "Anyway... I think you should stay away from here." I looked up at him, smiling.

"What's your name? I'm... Bibsy. Real name Sadie Ward." I decided I should try to make myself sound more normal.

"I'm Randolph Goodman," He said, distractedly, "I work for the royal navy. Come on, now..." He gestured towards the exit of the cave. I cast one last weary look into the cave, before following him out into the sunshine outside. The sun was beginning to set. I fixed my eyes on it firmly as we made our way out across the rocks, the waves gently rolling.

The sea was very calm today... almost flat and undisturbed, the waves as tiny and exquisite as a newborn baby's fingers; curling gently, before falling with the lightest of sounds, the small amount of foam vanishing quickly. Further up, there was a shoal of fish – I could tell by how the water was darker, and occasionally a mackerel would break the surface. One man was fishing, a black silhouette. As we walked, I looked out at the sea that was shining like velvet, and realized how much I missed it.

"Where does someone go to join the navy?" I asked Randolph as we walked.

"You just go sign up at the port," He replied, his eyes sliding towards me, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," I said. It was a lie. But I'm good at lying.

----------

Soon after that, the navy men had gone, giving me polite nods as they went. I'd smiled at them, turning to watch them vanish up the stairs, the sun setting behind me. I cocked my head, and made sure they were gone, before turning around. I reached into my pocket, picking out a heart. It was cold, lifeless, and every time I looked at it I wanted to cringe, but it wasn't rotting, which was a good thing. I looked down at the sand, where a single white crab wandered lazily towards me.

"Davy would have wanted you to have it," I whispered. The crab stopped by my foot. Then, like a flower curling open, it seemed to fold over, and the open up again, and when it opened, it grew and changed and transformed and then in front of me was... Calypso. She was a beautiful lady in human form, with glowing dark skin, intense eyes and a cascade of dreadlocks, her dress one tattered, and around her neck hung many lockets; one of which I could easily distinguish...

"I see you 'ave somet'ing of mine, or so you say," Her accent was a strong Jamaican one, and her dark eyes bored into mine. I nodded at her, cocking my head. I held out the heart. She looked down at it, a soft smile coming to her lips, though directed not at me – more at what was in my hands. She picked it up, out of my hands, examining it closely. I bowed my head in respect, something that I usually loathed to do.

"Davy would have wanted you to have it," I repeated. She nodded, her eyes finally leaving the heart, and looking at me; it felt more like _through_ me.

"Your story, Sadie Ella Ward, is truly one most unique," She said, softly. I smiled, because she understood. She turned, and waded away into the water of the ocean, Davy's heart safe in her cupped hands – the waves lapped up, and she walked and walked until the water was above her head and she was gone; and all that was left was some ripples, and the darkening sky.

And everything was right, because Davy had fallen into the heart of the ocean, and now the ocean had his heart. It _felt_ right.

----------

"Have any experience at sea, private?" Barked the captain of our ship, Howard Horne, to me.

"Yes sir," I replied. I was very different-looking, now. I'd cropped my hair, so it hung down, barely coming to my jaw. It was ginger, and straight-ish, though curling at the bottom. I wore a muffin hat most of the time, covering as much of my face as I could in the shadow of it's brim. I was in official navy clothing; a little tight on the bust but, annoyingly, not _that_ tight. I had a sword (Cody) and a rifle that I carried on my back. My uniform was shining and new.

"And are you prepared to fight and die for our country?" He roared, inches from my face.

"Yes sir!" I roared back. Hey, better then being the usual nervous, young newbie in the navy, right? I wasn't scared of him. I smiled to myself, thinking of my _old_ captain. Hah, once you've served under Davy Jones, _nobody_ could intimidate you. He gave me a half-smile.

"I think you will be a valuable addition to the team, Grover." He said to me.

----------

Yes, I nicked the name of the guy who went missing in the Weymouth cave. He was probably in my place now, in the future. Sometimes I wondered how he was doing... but ahh, that's a different story, is it not? I altered my last name a little, though; Grover Hood, as opposed to Grover Hunter. Didn't want any mix-ups. And I joined the navy and sailed. And sometimes it was hard work. And sometimes it sucked. And occasionally I was punished for being the livewire that I was.

But I was happy, because I was at sea. On land, I'd felt... tied down. It was like having wings all of your life, and suddenly having them taken away, you know? Once you begin working at sea, you never can leave it, sort of thing. I think some of the salt-water may have worked it's way into my bloodstream or something, but ah well. I was happy.

And I climbed the ranks.

Though it took about, say, ten years...

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**NB:** Oooh. Can you see where this is going? One chapter to go now... eeek.


	26. Chap 26: Rememberance & Epilogue

**NB:** The very last chapter. The story is now complete! Thanks for everyone who reviewed, etc. I think I may just make a sequel. And I had to add a bit of romance to it... you _knew_ I did. Heh. Soooo... thank you very much, everyone! And hooooray!

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**26) Rememberance **

And now, my memoirs pretty much comes to a conclusion. I am now the captain of my own ship; _Russell's Confederacy_. Who was Russell? And what was up with his confederacy? I don't really know. But she's a lovely old ship; billowing sails and all. It's ten years since I joined the navy – and that makes me (nearly) twenty-seven. Old habits die hard. I'm different now. I'm not the silly, ditzy girl I used to be, not so naive, not so stupid. I'm older now; that makes me more experienced, hopefully wiser in so many ways. I'm calmed down a bit since my hyped-up teenhood, though my, uh, 'unconventional' methods got me quite a name in the navy.

Those were good times, with the crew. Writing this has made me think back to all of them. I've skipped out on an awful lot of it – like during the thirteen years that I fast-forwarded over. I would have liked to recall lots of good times I'd had, back then. Everything was so simple on the _Dutchman_, everything was so... perfect. It didn't matter about the arguments and the punishments and the mistakes and the learning. It had all been fun. Ish.

And as for Davy Jones. He'd been... a good captain. I never really gave him enough credit, when I think back. I'd been so young back then, so mentally challenged. He never really had anyone tell him that he was one of the best seamen in this entire world, undoubtedly. Sometimes, I think all he needed may have been a hug, or something. Despite the sarcasm and the sadistic tendencies he had, I'd grown fond of him. I think we all had. And that is... _weird_, above all else.

Nowhere else, not in the navy, not on any other pirate ship, did I see a bond like we'd had on the _Dutchman_. You might think I'm babbling on now; and that may be true – but I feel that it's important that I have to say this. We'd all been close as anything, on board our ship. We'd gone through brilliant times and terrible times, and we'd all fought and we'd all laughed until we were nearly crying; and all of it made me smile to look back on.

I missed those guys on the _Dutchman_. I wondered if they ever thought about me. I would never, ever forget my life on board. There had been hard work, there had been boredom, there had been tears and blood spilt. But they were all part of life's rich tapestry; and each experience brought me closer to being the person I was today.

My mental illness issues? They did... calm down a little. And I should hope that they are all long gone by now, though sometimes, I still tend to focus more on having fun in life, which distracts me from the bigger picture. I was always thought of as the wacky one, even in the navy. I was just one of those hyper people; I found it hard to stay still, hard to shut up and listen, and hard to control what came out of my mouth.

I think that may have been why I rose ranks in the navy quite quickly. I wasn't afraid of anything – again, the whole serving in Davy's crew can do that to you. Some of the risks I took were frowned upon, but all in all, my career as an officer in the royal navy was pretty much a good one. I managed to pull some strings to get me sailing in the Caribbean again; the war against pirates raged on, and I'm pretty sure it's going to end, very soon.

Now, here I am. I've been writing long into the night; soon, the sun's going to be rising. And I've been counting the days. I know exactly what's going to happen when the sun comes up. Can you guess? My hand is all sore from writing this. It's times like these I miss things from the future like a laptop computer. But there's nothing I can do about it now; I've faced it. I don't even try to go home anymore. I've let it go – the life I had is one I have no way of getting back to. I guess I can live with that.

"Captain Hood?" There was a rapping on the door. I told whoever it was, to enter... the first mate walked in, Edmond Rollins, looking a little apprehensive. "May I ask why we have put down anchor in the middle of the ocean?"

"I have cleared today of any duties or patrols, Rollins," I said, tilting my head at him, "Today is a day off for all of you. You and the other crewmembers can take a dinghy or two back to land if you wish." He smiled, gratefully.

"Thank you sir," He said, "Do you mind me asking why?"

"I have some friends to meet," I said, looking at him with a smile, "Friends I haven't seen in years. Today is a very special day." I leaned back in my chair. "Ever heard the legend of Davy Jones, and the _Flying Dutchman_...?"

My office on board my ship is lovely; rustic and wooden inside, with windows with the curtains wide open, and the furniture may not be the top of the range; but it's not slim pickings, either. And you may remember me, in the first chapter, commenting on a certain tank across from my desk? Yes, I keep my pet octopus in there, David Junior. He reminds me of a cross between the kraken, and Davy. Davy had to kill the kraken in case he used it against Beckett, and I knew it tore him to have to murder it.

The kraken was a much-loved pet of Davy. And now I have sort of living memorabilia to Davy Jones in my office! Though it recently laid a batch of eggs, which is worrying.

Also, I'd wisened up in life on a lot more things then how to command a vessel. I thought back to Palafico... smiled at how foolish I used to be. It had been so blindingly obvious, but all the time I'd been too young and stuck up my own arse to notice. But I knew now. Knew more about him, knew more about me. Knew, and wanted, more then _anything_, for it to be true.

I can hear water crashing outside. Looking out of my window, there's a mast coming out of the water, tattered sails waving in the wind, water streaming down the ship as it gracefully rose from the water, bubbles erupting all around it. I'm excited now – yet at the same time, almost scared. Would they remember me? Recognize me? Would they still think of me as a friend, or would they all the time talk about me as if I were the annoying little girl in the crew, who nobody really liked?

So, this is my story, Grover Hunter. I will put this in a bottle, and I will leave it in the cave in Weymouth, for you to hopefully find in the future. I guess you're going to have to learn a lot in a short amount of time! Don't worry, it's not that hard, swapping time ranges. I mean, it was alright for me, wasn't it? You might still be a little shaken, but don't worry. If you see a fortyish woman, red-hair, garish make-up, tell her Bibsy's doing ok, will you? Or maybe not. She might think you're the one who kidnapped me, or something.

I'm apprehensive about seeing them again. Especially Palafico... I want to run out there, and at the same time I want to hide. I left my window open specifically. Should I perhaps order my ship to turn about? But then, through the window, drifts the scent of salty sawdust, and I realize everything's going to be ok...

**Epilogue **

_Grover put down the note, his brow wrinkling. That had been a whole lot of... well, mostly nonsense. He scanned the pages once more, especially the little note to him at the end. So this girl was in his place now. And as for him... he was in... the future. The year two-thousand and seven, to be precise. He felt the tiniest bit scared. but mostly apprehensive. What was going to happen to him now? Would it turn out as well for him as it had for this Bibsy person? _

_Well, sitting here wasn't going to help him find out. He didn't know what had made him look under the rock that he'd landed on, but there it had been – a bottle old and worn with time, and inside, parchment so old and yellowed that he'd been afraid it would crumble to dust at his touch. But it hadn't, and now he'd read it. He smiled to himself, thinking of the story Bibsy had told. It had been heart-warming, and it made him feel hopeful. _

_He stood up, and with a final glanced around the cave, pushed the bottle and the memoirs of a girl four hundred years in the past into his pocket, and began heading towards the light at the end of the tunnel, with no idea where he was going, but at the same time, a fair idea of what was happening. _Thanks, Bibsy,_ he thought to himself, as he stepped out of the cave. _

_He breathed in the sea air... and heard a voice calling in the distance. _

_"Bibsy?! Bibsy, where are you? I know you're on this beach, young lady! You are in _big_ trouble! Come out now! Excuse me, mister... have you seen a girl, about this height, sixteen years old...?"_

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_Bibsy scampered outside, leaning over the deck, excitement filling her up. She smiled as familiar faces turned to face her back, and one in particular made her heart leap. They did recognize her! They really, really did! They remembered, after ten long years... She yanked the gang-plank out, putting it down, a path from her ship to the _Dutchman_. She began walking across it, but when she looked up, she couldn't help but start to go faster, until she was running. _

_Palafico was at the other side, and his arms were open wide... _

The end.


	27. Note: Goodness Gracious!

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Insert fanfare here!

For where there was one...

Now there are two!

And it is Silly.

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This chapter is probably going angainst every violation in the ff dot net book. But I don't care! Bibsy is back in a second adventure, and I was wondering if you were interested at all. Because I got asked to make a sequel, but I've always thought sequels are a bit bleh. It's just a collection of oneshots; memories on the _Dutchman_, good times, sunny times, funny times and silly times.

Hope I haven't done the plot to death...


End file.
